


Vanished strings

by berryboys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Love, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryboys/pseuds/berryboys
Summary: At first glance, Jisung looks like a regular alpha. His distinctive scent and even the way he communicates and his choice of words give his rank away. But Jaemin has never met an alpha like him, and Jisung is a pretty mystery to solve that he can't ignore, not even if he already has an alpha for himself.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Kim Sunwoo/Na Jaemin, Na Jaemin/Park Jisung
Comments: 31
Kudos: 361





	Vanished strings

**Author's Note:**

> /looks into the distance/ maybe if i stopped posting fics at 4am only i could write decent author notes, but here i am again at 4am
> 
> some of you might already know, but this is the side story/side pairing of [The Cloud Effect](archiveofourown.org/works/21332461)  
> ! aka our cute complicated jaemsung in action. for those who haven't read the cloud effect, you don't need to, at least to understand the story, but you're always welcomed in there if you're curious after seeing what happens here ^^
> 
> thank you val for *forbidden word on ao3* this fic!! it got considerably longer and it took me so long too, but i hope you enjoy it!! i could go on writing but then this would become 100k
> 
> much love <3

For Jaemin, trouble is an inevitable force that seeps into his perfect, planned life when he least expects it.

His life isn’t that perfect, in reality. It isn’t all that planned, as much as he tries, but the false sensation of stability hovers over him like a dark cloud.

At twenty-one, Jaemin has developed an eye for trouble, a sort of secondary instinct that not everyone has. A sort of instinct that not everyone has. And as he sits in the study room alone, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive, that tiny alarm inside his head sets off.

It’s a subtle warning at first, like a flame slowly building up its fire, thus Jaemin brushes it off. He’s alone, in a closed room of the library, and the chill running down his spine is misplaced, nonsensical. He’s fifteen minutes early for the omega study session in what they designed as their safe space; it’s not about this small, insignificant room in the library, but about the group itself. Even though it’s just to study and share tips, only omegas are allowed, so that they can focus without worrying about scents or trivial rank rules.

But the bad hunch that squeezes in his chest today is a novelty. It’s dissonant, different, and it vibrates through his veins with the strength of an earthquake. Fidgeting, he peeks at the door a dozen times while he pulls out his books and his notes, wondering if there’s any alpha outside whose scent might be affecting him. He can’t smell anyone, but maybe his senses are stronger than his consciousness right now.

Like Donghyuck loves pointing out, Jaemin's bad hunches aren’t necessarily tied to his instinct: more often than not, it's just his endless optimism thinning out and leaving some room for realism. But Donghyuck is an alpha, and he sees the world in black and white – a vision of the world that, even though it has rubbed off on Jaemin over the last year, they’ll never share.

Despite the disadvantages of sharing an intimate space with an alpha he’s not mated to, Jaemin enjoys living with Donghyuck. He’s pretty pliant and sweet, and will agree to anything if Jaemin promises to buy him food.

Besides, Donghyuck is into betas and omegas, and that means Jaemin doesn't have to deal with unknown alphas roaming around their home once his rut hits. It was the opposite in his last apartment, which he shared with three omegas. His first year was plagued by random alphas that scented their private spaces without any consideration, and that’s a memory he’d like to forget.

When the door of the study room flings open, Jaemin gazes at the newcomer with suspicion. It’s only Renjun, but he’s sporting a frustrated frown on his face, a gesture that is rare on him. Jaemin is used to his gentleness, to his good manners, occasionally sprinkled with strictness.

“Chenle is bringing an alpha,” Renjun shoots at him, no greetings to dulcify the news. It’s also a warning for Jaemin, so that he prepares himself before they can lose this moment of privacy, and Jaemin appreciates the detail. “I swear he'll skip any rule just to pick a fight with Daehwi.”

They're not allowed to invite alphas or betas to their study sessions, not even as an exception. That's the whole purpose of the association. It was created to provide omegas with a space where they wouldn't have to worry about ranks, but in the beginning they were too lenient and sometimes accepted different ranks. Needless to say, it didn’t work out: many students joined study groups to socialize, and that included flirting.

Jaemin met Renjun through the group in their first year, and in consequence Jaemin ended up introducing him to his friends as well. Renjun didn’t have a lot of friends back then, though he was nice and outgoing and didn’t care much about being alone anyway. It was a relief to see that he clicked well with Donghyuck and Jeno, perhaps a bit too well. Jaemin didn't have any intention of setting Jeno and Renjun up, but the infatuation between them was almost instantaneous, and after two years, the infatuation has turned into a steady relationship.

Jaemin prides himself in his match-making techniques, even though he didn’t have to do anything.

“Interesting,” Jaemin mutters, amused at Renjun's indignation. As soon as Renjun sends him a smile, however, his shoulders deflate – he realizes that it's not a big deal, not for Renjun, though his reticence hints that he argued with the others over this. “Where's everyone?”

“They decided to skip the session because there was an alpha coming.” Renjun sighs, plopping down on the seat in front of him. He fishes his laptop out of his bag, disposed to study despite the lack of people today, and grants Jaemin an exhausted look over the screen. “Chenle said that he was the one who booked this room anyway, that Jisung would never bother an omega, and that he has no friends to study with; the usual.”

Jaemin bites his tongue not to laugh at that. He enjoys the exclusivity of their group, but he knows that Chenle wouldn’t impose an alpha into the group if they accepted him just this time. It must be true that the alpha doesn't have any friends – Chenle has a knack for loners and a bad habit of inviting everyone to their plans.

Jaemin observes Renjun for a second, confused, and whispers, “And where are Chenle and- _Jisung_?”

His question summons them. Like Donghyuck often says, Jaemin is a little omega _witch_ , for the better and the worse. Renjun whips his head right in time to point at Chenle pushing the door open, which means that they must have been walking just a few steps behind Renjun.

Chenle’s frame isn’t big enough to hide the boy that trails after him. Jisung is slightly taller, but he’s also hunched in a body with long, thin limbs. His attempt at becoming smaller, ironically, makes him look bigger.

That unusual posture for an alpha isn’t the detail that draws Jaemin’s attention: it’s his unfocused eyes, a brown gaze that observes his surroundings with curiosity and impatience, as though he’s looking at a world none of them can ever reach. As though he can’t see Renjun or Jaemin, or the walls around them, or the books on the table. Jisung looks beyond them, through them, like they belong to a world of grays and he’s distracted by the colors behind them.

Jaemin doesn't hear Chenle's greeting, nor does he notice Renjun's eyes shifting to him, drawn in by Jaemin’s pheromones. All he hears is pure silence inside his head. It’s a moment of peace that expands and stretches into his lonely corners as he meets eyes with Jisung and, for that short interminable moment, Jaemin himself feels like that foreign world no one can set foot on.

Trouble always finds a way, and this time it comes with silence.

Jaemin has no idea why Jisung grabs his attention.

He's younger than him, painfully coy and, much to his shock, he can't even look Jaemin in the eye when Chenle introduces them to each other. Jaemin isn't a special case, though: Jisung recoils from Renjun too, dodging direct eye contact and quickly nodding at everything he says in hopes he won't insist. He’s nervous, _jittery_. Renjun's sensitiveness is as sharp as Jaemin’s, so he gives up on him soon. Some people are more comfortable in their own silences, and in Jisung's case, he seems intimidated even when Jaemin and Renjun aren't addressing him.

Jisung is a strange alpha. His gaze has an attentive spark, and he’s ready to respond to any signal, to any word thrown at him, but everything outside his head seems to yank him back to reality with a harsh tug. He’s not here, nor that far away. He’s jumpy and receptive at the same time, and though those are rare traits in an alpha, Jaemin feels quite entranced.

At first glance, Jisung looks like a regular alpha. His distinctive scent and even the way he communicates and his choice of words give his rank right away. But there are peculiar signs that lure Jaemin’s curiosity: the shyness, the excessive respect, the apparent insecurity. Jaemin can smell all that in his pheromones at the first attempt, as though that range of pheromones are perpetual on him, even if Jaemin knows better than prying into a stranger's scent without permission.

Jaemin spends the whole afternoon with his elbows sunk on the table and hiding his smile against his palm. He's used to alphas that are confident in their skin, that need to impose their views and leaving a good first impression as fast as possible. Jisung isn't that. Maybe he's an alpha that presented too late, that didn't have enough time and experience to adapt to the changes that come with a rank. Most people present in their early teens, but Jaemin knows a few exceptions, so it wouldn’t be that shocking.

That night, as Jaemin lazily kicks his shoes off by the door, he can't help but smile to himself.

Donghyuck peeks from his room when he hears him enter, and upon checking that he doesn't have any company, he happily skids through the apartment to kiss him on the cheek. That display of endearment belongs to Jaemin only. Donghyuck caves in when he needs affection or a favor, but Jaemin is proud of his influence on him.

“What were you doing?” Jaemin asks him, distrustful. Donghyuck flashes a pleased grin at him, not understanding the accusation until Jaemin adds, “Do you have anyone over?”

The façade of innocence that invades Donghyuck's expression is anything but believable, but to Jaemin's relief, his scent hints that he’s joking.

“Of course not, I'd have texted you,” Donghyuck assures him, though that's not the complete truth. They have a rule of warning each other beforehand if they're bringing someone to the apartment, especially for sex, but it’s not always possible. At least during Donghyuck's ruts, Jaemin has stepped into the house many times just to bolt out one second later in horror. “Sunwoo dropped by earlier and left food for us, you hungry?”

Jaemin makes a noise of approval at that, touched by the gesture, while Donghyuck studies his reaction in interest. Gifting food, even disguised as a friendly act, carries an intrinsic implication towards courting. It would be harmless if it was between close friends, but Sunwoo isn't a mere friend. Given that they started hooking up last year, after Donghyuck worked as the nexus between them, gifting food falls into dubious territories sometimes.

But as Jaemin impatiently unpacks the food, he forgets about it. Donghyuck sits across him, licking his lips and glancing at the box like he's disposed to steal it from Jaemin and run away to his room, so Jaemin takes pity on him and lets him have the first portion of spicy chicken.

“Love you,” Donghyuck shamelessly chirps, but as soon as he realizes that he has won the little pull and push game, he returns to normalcy. “You should put Sunwoo on a leash, by the way. If I have to hear once again how hot and sexy and amazing you are, I'm going to go crazy.”

Jaemin snorts at that, not the slightest surprised at Sunwoo's behavior. Both Donghyuck and Sunwoo are part of the volleyball team, and that's the reason Jaemin met him at all – Donghyuck always insists that his duty as a friend is to attend most of his matches, so from time to time Jaemin indulges his delusional beliefs.

Sunwoo had been hard to ignore. He was incredibly pretty, had an air of seriousness that made him even more attractive in Jaemin's eyes, and at the time, he was painfully single. To Jaemin's advantage, he had been impossible to miss for Sunwoo too, though in his opinion Sunwoo was out of his league.

“But I'm hot and sexy, Donghyuck,” Jaemin retorts, even though that earns him a disgusted look. Jaemin shrugs, because he's not bothered by the idea of Sunwoo talking about him. It's cute, even, considering how prideful alphas tend to be. “Let the guy show off.”

Showing off is precisely what Sunwoo is doing, and Jaemin has no doubt there's no disrespect in his words. Donghyuck would rattle him out before he could finish talking if that was the case, and besides, Jaemin trusts Sunwoo. He doesn’t need anyone to protect his honor.

“I don't want my whole team thirsting after my friend,” Donghyuck complains. He scrunches his nose at Jaemin and confesses, “I have enough with Sunwoo.”

“Shouldn't have let us hook up. _Encouraged_ us, actually.”

“I don't hear you protesting, though.” Donghyuck wriggles his eyebrows at him, but when Jaemin glares at him, he deflates in defeat. “Better Sunwoo than a stupid alpha that turns out to be an asshole.”

He's right. Jaemin is grateful he found Sunwoo. He's not his boyfriend, but there's no one else that can fill that space in Jaemin's life right now. He gives Jaemin a sort of comfort and security that he could never receive from a casual hook-up, and even if they never discussed it out loud, Sunwoo finds that reassurance in Jaemin too.

“I should tell _you_ that.” Jaemin swallows, the hot taste of chicken burning in his throat. Sunwoo picked the right food, as usual. He arches his eyebrows at Donghyuck and proposes, “Why not stick to one omega or beta for your ruts instead of jumping from one to another? It’ll save you a lot of time, and some of your picks are complete assholes that leech off of our food the next morning.”

The negative is blatant on Donghyuck’s expression, so he doesn't need to answer for Jaemin to understand it. He shouldn't even be giving Donghyuck those options. If Donghyuck wanted them, he’d have considered the idea long ago. After all, most of his circle of friends is in serious relationships or, like Jaemin, still in monogamous relationships that don’t imply mating or tags.

“No commitment,” Donghyuck retorts, nonchalant, licking the sauce off his fingers. “I don't want any _problems_. Look at this,” he continues, poking into the box to prove a point. “You're okay with receiving courting food, but if this happened to me with someone I'm just fucking, I'd pass away out of embarrassment.”

Jaemin stalls at that, affronted. He's never given the courting food much importance, because even though it's a traditional choice loaded with meaning, Sunwoo assured him that he merely liked taking care of him. Since they’re involved in intimate ways, a courting gesture shouldn't scare either of them, shouldn’t be a problem considering Sunwoo knots him on a weekly basis. It shouldn’t be embarrassing.

But now it scares Jaemin, as doubt drips into his mind and forms a crammed web with all his thoughts into that anxious, neurotic spot. Sunwoo is an alpha, and like most alphas, he enjoys the feeling of owning and belonging to someone. Maybe that's the reason he does this: because Jaemin doesn't want those ties, but Sunwoo still needs to hold onto that to feel that Jaemin won't slip between his fingers any time. Jaemin could slip, though, and that should be fine for Sunwoo too.

“You're a child,” Jaemin grunts in the end, swatting Donghyuck's hands so that he doesn't steal another portion. “It isn't that big of a deal.”

Donghyuck doesn’t pressure him, and that carefulness asphyxiates Jaemin further. He's expecting Donghyuck to tease him, to bicker for the rest of the night about how Sunwoo is the love of his life and Jaemin doesn’t want to admit it. Donghyuck doesn't insist, either because he notices Jaemin's tension or because he deems it a sensitive territory tonight, and that’s a terrible sign.

Sunwoo and Jaemin know that their relationship is temporary, while their friendship is untouchable. But Jaemin wonders if along the way, Sunwoo’s feelings leaned into something more serious. Sunwoo is a good alpha; god, Jaemin could spend the rest of his life with him and he would be happy. They’re friends, they care for each other and the sex is great, but Jaemin wouldn’t be capable of mating with him.

For some reason, tonight Jaemin thinks about Jisung. He thinks about those alphas that would ask, every single time, before giving courting food, about those alphas that haven't been shaped by their instinct and the expectations that are imposed on them. Jaemin enjoys when directions are clear and feelings are sharp, not gray and stuck in questionable territories, when he doesn’t have to fret non-stop about taking the right decisions.

Tonight Jaemin thinks about Jisung, and wonders what being so free would feel like.

Unprompted and invisible, Jisung slides into their lives within a few weeks.

He doesn't show up to their study sessions again, whether it's because Chenle doesn't invite him or because he's smart enough to intuit that he's not welcomed there, but Jaemin crosses paths with him all the time. He's at parties, at Chenle's house, and when their friends mold to his presence, Chenle drags him into their nights out too.

Sometimes Jaemin wonders if Jisung has always been there.

If when he walked to his faculty, Jisung was disguised among the crowd of students, his lanky figure swallowed in his big hoodies and his head always pointing down. If when he waited the long line at the cafeteria every morning, Jisung was comfortably seated at one of the tables with a friend, his cheek squashed against his fist and his eyes half-closed. If they looked at each other a thousand times, as strangers, but they never _saw_ each other.

That's the thing with Jisung: his alpha demeanor and the hidden power of his rank go unnoticed. Unless, like Jaemin, one takes a moment to observe him.

It's interesting to see how alphas behave around him. Donghyuck, who never misses a chance to throw jabs at alphas he has just met, barely dedicates him a few words. Only when Jisung is too close to him does he seem to tense up, but even then, Donghyuck’s reactions are milder than usual.

In a world where every interaction is intense and overwhelming, Jisung’s presence is addicting, and unaware, Jaemin finds his own world gravitating towards him. Jisung is easy to have around, and once he learns that Jaemin doesn’t intend to break those boundaries that other omegas would break, he learns to listen.

Not even Sunwoo notices, but part of Jaemin thinks there are no warning signs to detect it anyhow. Jisung's invisibility is magical, and when Jaemin returns to the warmth of Sunwoo's arms, he forgets about him too.

“You okay?” Sunwoo asks him one night, rolling off him with a frown. Jaemin isn't in heat yet, but he's close enough, so Sunwoo came over despite Donghyuck's grumpy protests. The high of their orgasms is wearing off, and though Sunwoo usually just rocks his worries away and cuddles him to sleep, tonight there must be a ripple in Jaemin’s mood that he can't ignore. “You're so silent tonight.”

Jaemin doesn't dare to look into Sunwoo's eyes. They've been doing this for more than one year, and Sunwoo has had plenty of time to learn every curve of his body and his mind.

His question could be more direct, could be accusatory, but Sunwoo is taking the sensible route to not make him uncomfortable. Jaemin is so close to his heat that pressuring him is playing with fire, and though Sunwoo’s carefulness won't demolish his barriers, his omega appreciates the respect.

“I'm fine,” Jaemin tells him, latching onto Sunwoo's side right away. He presses his face on Sunwoo's chest and counts the rapid breaths that it takes Sunwoo to calm down, using that excuse to conceal his own concern. Both of them are sticky and gross after sex, but Sunwoo wouldn’t escape for a shower while Jaemin still needs him. “Just overwhelmed.”

Sunwoo's arm tightens around him, and his scent thickens with nervousness, nearly fear.

“Was I too rough?” he sputters, and Jaemin has to set a hand on his abdomen so that he doesn't sit up, to barricade that first impulse of worrying for him. Sunwoo gets the message, but he still sounds scared as he mutters, “You know I'm trying to tone it down, I don't want you to-”

“It's not that,” Jaemin cuts him off, before Sunwoo can tangle them into his own assumptions. “I mean it.”

They had that discussion long ago. Passion doesn't equal force. Impatience doesn't equal roughness. Sunwoo was far from a virgin, but all the omegas he'd been with loved it hard, so that was what he had learned and absorbed. Jaemin was different, and as soon as he told Sunwoo, his attitude towards sex changed; he could have walked away or refused to adapt to Jaemin's needs, but Sunwoo was open to trying new things with him. Like many people, he hadn't thought that a slow and patient build-up could feel better.

“Just wanted to make sure.” Sunwoo lowers his voice and then tucks Jaemin's damp hair behind his ear, his bangs out of his forehead, stripping Jaemin from every wall that conceals his emotions. Jaemin dares to meet his eyes, that dark gaze that overflows with trust, aware that he doesn't have any option. Only then does Sunwoo drop the bomb, “Donghyuck says you've been acting weird lately. Avoiding alphas for no reason, scrunching your nose at scents-”

Sunwoo sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to stop himself. There are more observations, Jaemin realizes, but Donghyuck must have asked him to keep them a secret.

A wave of confusion hits Jaemin. He has no idea what Sunwoo is talking about, or what could have triggered that conclusion in Donghyuck's head, but there must be a reason. Donghyuck isn’t the type of person that meddles in his friends’ issues, unless he’s worried.

“Have I?” Jaemin says, his voice just a delicate blow of air. He burrows himself against Sunwoo, looking for a hidden place in his alpha pheromones. His stability dances on the edge of a cliff, because he doesn't know whether he's lying to Sunwoo, and because he doesn’t intend to lie to him. “It must be his imagination.”

It's all about hunches, about suspicions, excitement surging from the pit of his stomach. His mind doesn't navigate away from this room, away from Sunwoo, because Jaemin doesn't need proof, nor does he need to analyze his own feelings. Maybe his mood has changed. Donghyuck perceives even his tiniest mood swings, can guess if he had a bad day or a bad night of sleep with a mere glance. He would never create problems between Sunwoo and him on purpose.

Maybe Donghyuck is right, and Jaemin's hunches are an infallible trick, the engine that predicts his future. He’s that omega witch that can smell trouble, but that can’t detect his own problems even when they start affecting people around him.

But this time, Jaemin's hunch hurts good in his chest, and he doesn’t want to let it die down.

“He’s nice, isn’t he?”

Rule number one in Chenle’s book is that no matter when, no matter where, he doesn’t ask casual questions. He’s chosen the perfect place and moment to make it sound casual, however: since they’re spending the night together – Chenle, Renjun, Jisung and Jaemin – Chenle dragged them to the convenience store to get some food.

Jaemin didn’t see this coming, but he should have realized that Chenle didn’t jerk him to a different aisle for no reason, leaving Jisung and Renjun behind. And there is the result: Chenle’s mischievous gaze on him, a lopsided smile to add some spice, and an apparently innocent question.

Jaemin tightens his hands around the cart’s handle, not falling into his trap, and fakes obliviousness, “Who?”

“ _Who?_ ” Chenle mimics him with a jeering smile. “The alpha you keep staring at.”

That’s a false accusation, which annoys Jaemin to no end. He’s been overly self-conscious of how much time he spends looking at Jisung, almost measuring it second by second to spare his friends the same amount of attention. Of course he might have miscalculated, but he doubts it. Or perhaps his calculations were too accurate to be realistic, and that’s how Chenle picked up on his interest.

“I don’t stare at him,” Jaemin protests, grumpily searching for the ingredients they need for tonight. The only upside is that Chenle promised to cook for them, even if tonight is just one of his traps.

“So you know who I’m talking about,” Chenle sing-songs, sending Jaemin a satisfied grin. That’s the fastest way to point out his grave mistake, and though he’s making fun of Jaemin, he doesn’t go too far. “Don’t pretend, that’s so weird in you. You don’t look at alphas at all, so I’d never mistake it for normal staring.”

 _You don’t look at alphas at all_. Chenle isn’t wrong. Even though Jaemin’s attraction is shaped towards alphas, he’s not interested after first impressions. For him, attraction isn’t about appearances or scent, but Sunwoo was an exception – too pretty to ignore, Jaemin supposes. Jisung was, too, but in a different way.

“I was just curious,” Jaemin claims. He wonders if Jisung has noticed his stares as well – Jaemin didn’t look at him excessively, but it might be about _how_ he looked at him. Clearing his throat, Jaemin avoids Chenle’s judgment and says, “He seems too… level-headed for an alpha.”

Chenle laughs so loudly that Jaemin slouches in embarrassment, scanning the whole aisle to make sure that they’re alone.

“Level-headed,” Chenle repeats, bending over the cart with laughter. Jaemin flicks his index finger on his temple, but it comes out so soft that it doesn’t hurt Chenle. “He’s an airhead. Quite the opposite of you, actually, but you know,” he makes a motion, with both of his hands, that Jaemin doesn’t understand, “balance is the key.”

Jaemin feels his eyes roll to the back of his head. Whether Chenle is joking around or purposefully trying to set them up, Jaemin doesn’t appreciate it. It’s a ridiculous attempt that will lead them nowhere.

“You’re annoying,” Jaemin spits at him, pushing the cart just so that Chenle lets it go. Chenle winks at him, aware that he’s bothering Jaemin: that’s his aim, it seems, though Jaemin can’t understand why. “The guy can’t even hold my gaze.”

Chenle shrugs at that. “Maybe he could, if you didn’t look at him like you’re about to eat him.”

Jaemin nearly chokes on his saliva, but luckily to his honor, Chenle isn’t paying him any attention. He has time to regain his composure and ignore the swell of embarrassment in his chest.

Still, his voice comes out strained when he retorts, “I don’t.”

The snicker that Chenle lets out unnerves him, but sometimes fighting his friends is worse than letting them assume whatever they want. Jaemin opts for the latter. As long as Chenle doesn’t bring those fantasies to other people’s ears, his little secret will be safe.

“Sure,” Chenle says, as though Jaemin is ridiculous for denying it. “Just don’t do it in front of Sunwoo. Jisung can’t fight to save his life.”

Chenle’s jeering tone has disappeared, and when Jaemin glances at him in shock, he lifts an eyebrow. Challenging, questioning. Among all his jokes, that’s real, serious advice, and that’s the problem: Chenle thinks that Jaemin is being so obvious that even Sunwoo could be affected. Sunwoo isn’t the type to be possessive and aggressive, but no matter their rank and their personality, everyone has a limit.

Being replaced by a younger alpha, innocent and inexperienced, who didn’t even make a move on Jaemin, could be an insult to his pride.

But Jaemin isn’t going to replace _anyone_. He’s not interested in Jisung that way, as charming as he is to his omega and his curiosity, and Jaemin is allowed to look and think about him without getting involved in a mess. Or at least he should be allowed.

That’s what he’s about to claim, just to extinguish the vicious spark in Chenle’s eyes, but when they reach the end of the aisle, they get interrupted by their friends. It’s been a few minutes since they parted ways, enough time for Renjun to cling onto Jisung’s arm and cozily flutter his eyelashes at him. Jisung is smiling down at him, cheeks sprinkled with pink, since he must not be used to that kind of affection – and less from a mated omega.

Jaemin has to stop himself from laughing out loud at Renjun’s antics, or rather, at how Jisung has fallen for them right away. He wouldn’t take pity on any alpha for this, but Jisung’s evident obliviousness softens him. Which is a bit unfair, too, because Jaemin wants to judge him for surrendering to his instinct so shamelessly.

“What is that?” Chenle accuses them, pointing his finger at the unidentified bag Renjun has pressed against his chest. “What did you get?”

Renjun raises his chin, not welcoming the question, but there’s a tint of pride in his face. “Don’t pry. Jisung is buying it for me, so it’s not your money.”

Both Chenle and Jaemin turn to Jisung at the same time, an amount of attention that overwhelms him in the split of a second. Even though it’s a subtle strategy to ask for explanations, Jisung goes from pink to red without a word, nervously shifting his gaze between them and the floor.

“He did… a thing with his eyes,” Jisung grunts in the end, embarrassed about his own decisions.

“Oh my god,” Chenle whines, his face contorting with disgust. “Forget I asked, I swear. This is ridiculous.”

Renjun leans his head against Jisung’s arm, however, and that appeases his shame. It’s always difficult for an alpha to reject omegas’ requests, Jaemin knows that much, and Renjun has always been quite persuasive. Thus, Jaemin opts for silence at first, aware that Renjun wouldn’t have used his charms on Jisung if he didn’t trust him. If he didn’t know that he’s safe, that Jisung won’t want anything in return.

That means Jaemin isn’t the only one who can detect the difference between Jisung and other alphas. It’s not a product of his imagination, or his omega feeling infatuated and projecting an image of Jisung that doesn’t exist.

But Jaemin can’t leave it at that. When they’re stepping out of the convenience store and Chenle and Renjun walk ahead of them, Jaemin purposely slows down, hoping Jisung will do the same. It’s an unconscious reaction for him: he adapts to Jaemin’s pace, which shows that he’s attuned to Jaemin despite all his avoidance, and they fall behind.

When Jaemin clasps his hand around his wrist, Jisung visibly flinches, glancing first at his hand and then at Jaemin’s semblance. He doesn’t look scared, just surprised and somewhat awed.

“He took advantage of you,” Jaemin states, plainly, trying to sound neutral. Out of the corner of his eyes he perceives either Renjun or Chenle peeking back at them, but they keep walking instead of meddling. Jisung is too stunned to notice them, his frown deepening as he stares at Jaemin. “Don’t you know how to say no to omegas?”

For a second Jaemin feels like he’s making this a bigger deal than it is, but he _needs_ to know the answer. He needs to know if Jisung can take care of himself, if he indulged Renjun’s cravings because he decided so or because he has no ability to control his instinct.

Jaemin shouldn’t care, but he cares. Unlike Renjun, other omegas he might encounter won’t have good intentions. He doesn’t want anyone to think that they can fool Jisung, and if Jisung has to learn the lesson from him, Jaemin can grant him that before he gets his heart broken by accident.

“I’m fine,” Jisung tells him, scent filling with confusion by the second. His pulse softly beats under Jaemin’s fingers, but that’s more than Jaemin has ever felt from him; it’s almost a wonder to realize that Jisung can feel, too, that his shyness isn’t a façade. “He was cute.”

That answer is the foretelling of a headache. Jaemin’s tension disappears, for it’s too ridiculous for him to get angry at Jisung’s obliviousness.

Almost in a mutter, Jaemin asks, “Will you do anything an omega says, just if he’s cute?”

Regret seeps into him drop by drop as he understands his own question. As he understands how Jisung could interpret it. Maybe, deep inside, Jaemin wants to know if Jisung will comply with all his requests too; a tug of power that he couldn’t have with any other alpha, but that Jisung could give him.

Jisung doesn’t find his question odd. Apart from his confused pheromones, there are no signs of reticence or discomfort, and his shoulders rise in a shrug.

“I don’t know,” he says, as if he’s just decided his position. His head bends to the side, and for a moment he looks into Jaemin’s gaze with intent; and Jaemin feels seen for the second time, truly seen, a reminder of how he felt in that study room when he first met Jisung. “Usually don’t find them cute.”

Jisung disengages from him, from his hand and the conversation, deeming that a good explanation. That seems the end of it. Jaemin never gets to respond, but it doesn’t matter: catching on the hidden meaning of Jisung’s words is impossible, so he stays some steps behind him, drown in stunned silence.

After that, the night becomes interminable.

“You know I don't bite, right?”

As soon as those words escape Jaemin's mouth, regret swallows him whole.

They’re at Renjun's flat, waiting in the living room while he changes into decent clothes – they caught him taking a nap, even though he promised he’d be ready in time – and Jisung hasn't been contributing to their conversation at all.

Impatience tickles Jaemin from head to toe. Trying to crack Jisung’s shield at once is exhausting, but doing it day by day is even more exhausting. Jisung isn’t very talkative, but when it’s only Jaemin and him, those natural silences last longer, become thicker and stretch until they’re unnatural. The air around shifts as well, saturating with a range of pheromones that Jaemin can’t interpret.

Jaemin can't stand it. When their friends are around, Jisung addresses him without trouble, but now that they're alone, Jisung acknowledges his chattering with dry nods and leans against the back of the couch, nails scraping the fabric. He pretends that Jaemin's existence is meaningless, and though Jaemin doesn’t own the biggest ego in the universe, it still hurts a bit.

It doesn’t make sense for him to crave Jisung’s attention. An alpha’s attention. Jaemin assumes that it’s because he despises this place, impregnated with strong pheromones, and Jisung is the only distraction at reach. The only bearable scent of this house belongs to Renjun, but the whole house is filled with Jeno, Mark and Yuta's scents. That’s what squashes his patience, what breaks the last piece of respect he feels for Jisung; his curiosity is stronger than politeness, and definitely stronger than his reticence to offend an alpha.

Jaemin's question is a game-changer, however. Jisung's eyes thunder on him, shock reflected on them, and his fingertips sink deeper into the couch. It takes Jaemin a great amount of effort not to sniff the air, though it's not necessary: panic emanates from his scent like a cascade.

Flabbergasted, Jaemin takes a step back.

“Yeah,” Jisung croaks out, and a scowl blossoms on his face. A tiny bit of reproach. They stare into each other's eyes for a heartbeat, and then Jisung glances at the hall, as though he wishes Renjun would save him from Jaemin’s malicious tongue. “What are you talking about?”

It's too late to recoil, to apologize and move on, or to walk away without a clarification. A chance of this caliber is hard to get, and Jaemin suspects that no matter when or where, Jisung won't appreciate the confrontation anyway. So at least he can continue and get the answers that he needs.

“Do you behave like this with all omegas?” Jaemin continues. He can’t describe Jisung's behavior with words, and given the odd look Jisung dedicates him, he’s not doing a good job at explaining his intentions. “Stupid question. You're fine with Chenle.”

Jisung sharply inhales and claims, “I'm fine with you too.”

But even now, his voice is too mellow for an alpha. His eyes don't land on Jaemin with the confidence they should have. He’s acting, lying. Jisung is peculiar, and that barrier between them disturbs Jaemin. Jisung shouldn’t treat him differently, not among all ranks in general, but also not in comparison to other omegas.

“Did I do anything that bothered-?”

“Oh no, not at all!” Jaemin draws a dismissive wave with his hand, aware of what Jisung is thinking. It's the opposite problem. Rather than diving into dangerous territories to test this new friendship, Jisung tiptoes all the time. “I just-”

Jaemin doesn't have any explanation that makes sense, not anymore. He studies Jisung's posture, his tension, that pulsing panic that surges from one specific fear: making Jaemin uncomfortable, getting reprimanded for it, no matter if Jisung understands his fault or not. He holds excessive respect for Jaemin, but it’s having an unwanted effect on both of them. Jaemin isn’t special. He shouldn’t be.

But Jaemin never completes the petty retort that sits on his tongue, all those words that have been boiling inside his head and that now fade away before Jisung’s gaze.

When it’s obvious Jaemin isn’t going to speak over him, Jisung doesn't hesitate to take the reins with a revealing, “Chenle told me you're dating Sunwoo.”

It's Jaemin's turn to endure the blow of shock. Not only because that's factually wrong – Chenle is aware of all the nuances of his relationship with Sunwoo – but also because Jisung is using that as an excuse.

An excuse to avoid him, to not pay him too much attention, to prove that he's not interested in him as an omega.

Cheeks flaming red, Jisung finishes with a, “And I know how alphas get over their mates.”

For a few seconds, Jaemin is speechless, too stunned to form a coherent response. There are a dozen questions stuck in his throat and a delicious sensation of nervousness in his guts, and he doesn’t doubt that his cheeks are turning red as well.

If Jisung was so determined to show that he respected Jaemin's boundaries, it's because his instinct was prompting him to try them, to test the waters despite knowing Jaemin was out of reach. Overcompensation for their alpha wants, Donghyuck calls it.

Jaemin wonders if Jisung has been holding back. If just like Jaemin, he felt that connection between them – a pull that could flow into nothingness, but that was interesting enough to keep Jaemin on his toes for a while – and decided to brush it off.

“Sunwoo isn't my boyfriend,” Jaemin confesses, and that’s all he manages to utter, the bottom of their issue. He understands why Jisung would believe otherwise, or why Jisung seems to be skeptical. Sunwoo is an elemental part of himself, both in and out of bed, and as far as Jisung knows, they could have their mating marks in hidden places. “We're just- close friends.”

That lie feels funny between his lips, but his omega sing-songs deep within. Lying to an alpha, just to gain his favor, is a double sweet treat, and when Jisung gazes at him with an unmasked spark of hope, Jaemin has enough energy to lie for the rest of his life.

Jaemin raises his chin, an attempt not to submit with his posture. The tension is palpable between them, but this time the atmosphere around them is full of understanding – of anticipation, too – and that insufflates a kind of courage that is nothing but dangerous.

“Am I intimidating?” Jaemin whispers, so softly that Jisung has to tilt his head towards him.

Noises seep from Renjun's room, the tingling of his keys and his steps padding over the floor, but all Jaemin perceives is Jisung's accelerated breathing. That sign of lack of control is music to Jaemin's instinct.

“Not intimidating,” Jisung retorts, his chest swelling with air. It’s like pushing domino pieces, because once he starts talking, he doesn’t stop. Jisung stares at him and decides to knock out all of Jaemin's air with a raw, “But handsome.”

Jaemin can't even laugh at that, at Jisung’s coyness interlaced with bravery, or at the way his voice becomes rough and anxious. Tongue-tied and overwhelmed, Jaemin has no words to retort and no right to laugh.

He doesn’t need to, though, because in that instant Renjun happily jogs through the hall, with messy hair and an apologetic smile, and his interruption becomes both their salvation and their curse.

Renjun and Chenle are attractive as well, Jaemin wants to point out, but the compliment slips under his skin and satisfaction tackles him. It's an involuntary response, one that Jisung seems to ignore in favor of smiling at Renjun, of pretending that he never praised Jaemin. It’s either that, or Jisung doesn’t even understand the power of his own words, how they shape Jaemin’s scent without control.

Jisung is a riddle for Jaemin, but right there, as he takes Renjun’s hand and sweeps into the conversation as though he and Jaemin weren’t having a private exchange one moment ago, Jaemin has a realization.

That compliment is void of intentions: Jisung isn't flirting with him, he's just giving him his honest opinion. It doesn't mean that Jisung is interested in him, and even if he is, it doesn't mean that he intends to act on it. Attraction is complex; for Jaemin, it's a combination of stimulus, of what his head wants, of his inner instinct telling him who's right and who's wrong, and in which ways. It should be the same for Jisung.

But for the rest of the day, and despite his shyness and the furtive glances he throws at Jaemin when he thinks Jaemin isn't looking, Jisung doesn't spare him any other word about their conversation.

It's a secret that gets swept under the rug, hidden from visitors, but that when the door closes and Jaemin is alone, crawls from underneath the carpet like a small, jeering creature.

For weeks, a question runs inside Jaemin's mind, and piece by piece, takes form until he manages to understand it.

The clues are there. Jisung isn't a regular alpha. Maybe it was his upbringing or maybe his personality, but the breach between him and other alphas is immense. It takes a long time for their friends to catch on, and even if Jaemin makes an effort not to show curiosity when other alphas are around, his pheromones are hard to control.

Sunwoo is the first one to notice. Jaemin and Sunwoo naturally rotate around each other, and Sunwoo is used to enjoying his undivided attention, so the moment Jaemin's attention diverts to someone else, Sunwoo suspects. When they're hanging out with their friends, going to parties or playing drinking games in bars, Sunwoo always has an arm around him, or a hand on his thigh, or his side pressed against Jaemin's body. Those are gestures that Jaemin didn't give any importance before, but now that Jisung is there to witness them, Jaemin realizes that he's being marked. He's being scented. He’s being owned.

He has always been, however. Sunwoo isn't using their relationship as a weapon against Jisung, but as a message. Maybe because Jisung’s inexperience is blatant, because he doesn't court Jaemin at all, Sunwoo doesn't dwell too much on it.

But the little things he does, the natural details of their relationship that bloom without control, disturb their peace. Before Jisung, Jaemin didn't worry about appearances, about misunderstandings, and though now shouldn't be different, it is.

Donghyuck is the second one to perceive their little game. As soon as he sniffs Jaemin's nervousness, his reticence and his tendency to keep his pride intact and his feelings tucked within, he decides to tempt his luck.

“The boy likes you, you know?” Donghyuck says one Friday night, as they slide into the apartment together after a couple of drinks. It's past midnight, and neither of them is drunk, so Donghyuck doesn't have any excuse to disguise his words as gibberish. “If he was any other alpha, we'd already have a big problem.”

Jaemin scoffs at that, but his heart clenches at the insinuation, at the possibility that Donghyuck might be right. Despite the casualty of his deal with Sunwoo and the fact that Jaemin isn't disposed to let someone as innocent as Jisung court him, Sunwoo's alpha instinct would still drive him to rebel at the mere sight of a crush.

“What makes you say that?” Jaemin retorts, swallowing hard. He's lucky Donghyuck is too preoccupied with not tripping over Jaemin’s shoes at the entrance, since otherwise he’d read the panic on Jaemin’s expression without any effort. To feel covered, Jaemin has to stifle his pheromones until he only emits dull apprehension. “I think he's pretty indifferent towards me.”

That statement is a mistake, but Jaemin flees to the kitchen before Donghyuck can laugh at him. That’s a futile attempt too. Donghyuck trails after him after getting rid of his shoes, and he bursts into Jaemin's personal space with a sprinkle of skepticism on his face.

“Are you serious?” Donghyuck whispers, as if they're not alone, scrutinizing Jaemin to discover if he's joking. His incredulity awakens Jaemin's self-awareness, but he deserves that. “He's like a little puppy that got into a new home and is afraid of every corner and flinches every time he has to take a step.” The corner of his lips buries into his dimple, and though Jaemin is tempted to ask about that sudden change of heart, Donghyuck leans closer and says, “You, with your hot alpha _boyfriend_ attached at your hip, so pretty and unattainable and with _so much_ experience, will give him a heart attack.”

Donghyuck’s intentions are transparent, and yet the hit doesn't lose effect when it lands on Jaemin. He's never bothered to analyze the situation from Jisung's point of view; from an alpha's perspective. Donghyuck is gifting that to him.

“You're an idiot,” Jaemin grumbles, embarrassed.

Donghyuck laughs out loud as he gets shoved away, but instead of fighting Jaemin and imposing his truth, he spins on his heels and digs into the fridge. Jaemin waits for him to hand him the brick of juice – after living together for a whole year, Donghyuck knows that he likes juice to soften the alcohol. He makes a show of drinking first, but Jaemin merely rolls his eyes at the antics and wriggles his fingers.

“How come you're so wary?” Donghyuck asks, sitting next to him. He's dragged a bowl of cereals onto the table, and he smashes the little rings with his spoon, a fixation that always annoys Jaemin in the morning. Not now, not when his mind is asphyxiated by the idea of Jisung having an unfathomable crush on him and Sunwoo being protective despite claiming that their relationship isn't romantic for him either. “I know you have Sunwoo, and that you like him, but you have a line of men that would fall at your feet and you don't even want to consider them. Don't you want to find your mate?”

It's not the first time someone points out Jaemin's cowardice. Renjun discussed it with him months ago. Chenle loves to throw it around every time Jaemin rejects someone’s attempts at getting his phone number. Half of his study group assumed that Sunwoo was his mate, since they couldn’t find another explanation for Jaemin’s behavior.

Jaemin has settled into the routine, into the comfort and the easy pattern of having a familiar alpha to fulfill his needs. Loving Sunwoo is loving right, but not honestly. In another world where Donghyuck hadn't been into hook-ups, maybe Jaemin would have sealed those mutual sexual favors with him instead.

That's the short answer: Sunwoo is his friend, not his mate. But Jaemin doesn't want to let him go and risk it all with another boy, and he doesn't know where that fear surges from.

“That's rich coming from you,” is all Jaemin answers, feeling his own face contort into a frown.

Donghyuck leans forward, almost moving under Jaemin's face just to hog his attention. He looks funny that way, and when Jaemin finds himself smiling, it's evident that breaking his seriousness was Donghyuck's aim.

“How so? I'm sleeping with everyone that I like and that likes me, in any case that would let me find my mate,” he reasons, and damn, he has a point. It's terrible that Donghyuck's wild bed activities put him in a better position than Jaemin's seemingly scheduled life. “It's just that he doesn't _exist_.”

A resigned sigh slips out of his mouth against Jaemin’s will. Donghyuck doesn't believe in relationships, not when it comes to himself – he's assured Jaemin that he's never fallen in love and that somehow, he's certain it will never happen. Pressuring him feels like a mistake, and those are his choices, his life, so Jaemin's silent disapproval is compliance.

“You said it yourself,” Jaemin says after a beat, when Donghyuck returns to his bowl, his alpha pheromones tickling Jaemin for attention. It's hard to materialize his own thoughts, but Jaemin needs to let them out, needs a shoulder that carries the weight of his concerns too. “Jisung, even if he's into me, doesn't look like he knows what he has to do. That's a lot pressure on me.”

The noise Donghyuck lets out is undecipherable, but his scent betrays him. Jaemin purses his lips, aware that he's not being fair to Jisung. All of them have to start somewhere to explore their feelings, and just like Jaemin is entangled in his own issues, Jisung deserves the right to make mistakes with or without him. That's not enough of a reason to dismiss him.

“What are you afraid of?” Donghyuck asks him, but it's a rhetorical question. Munching on his cereals, he encircles Jaemin with one arm and squeezes his side, and despite how little effort he puts, a wave of comfort whips through Jaemin. Donghyuck always knows how to use his alpha essence to make him feel better. “He'll have to learn one day that omegas aren't _all that_ and his crush will become realistic instead of pure adoration and veneration.”

Jaemin leans his cheek on Donghyuck's shoulder and muses, “That feels good, though.”

But satisfaction strikes harder when the adoration steams from Jisung's gaze. In a world shaped by pheromones and roles, expectations and judgment, Jaemin feels like Jisung would adore him no matter what. It's a sort of power that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, and that's the reason Jaemin is scared.

“Jaemin, make up your mind,” Donghyuck protests, though it's inevitable to miss the amusement in his tone. He taps the top of Jaemin's head with his palm, and then uses his sweetest voice to tease him, “You need affection, baby?”

“Make fun of me again and I'll make believe your next hook-up that I'm going to murder them for sleeping with my mate.”

Donghyuck's laughter rings across the whole apartment while Jaemin sips on his juice, unbothered.

“We have to do that one day,” Donghyuck agrees, twirling his fingers in Jaemin's hair. He's more mellow than usual, Jaemin realizes, and he might not be the only one who needs some affection tonight; Donghyuck's joke is an invitation to cuddle him to sleep, and Jaemin isn't going to pass on it. “Maybe to someone that doesn't understand that I don't want to sleep with them _again_.”

Jaemin hums at that, drowning in the torrent of pheromones Donghyuck emits. Even when Donghyuck is the well of his problems, the voice of reason and reality, he's the clutch that keeps Jaemin walking.

And that’s the problem. Once the seed is inside Jaemin's head, the bad weed that grows becomes immortal.

Jaemin’s classes keep him busy and, most of the time, he manages to drift his thoughts away from Jisung. Sunwoo's kisses are a good distraction too, but his heat hits twice in the span of only one heat, and Jaemin doesn't feel the same way in bed with Sunwoo. Not like he used to, at least.

When his second heat takes over, Donghyuck doesn't have time to leave the apartment. Since they're used to each other's ruts and heats, their mutual agreement is that they have to stay over at a friend's until it passes. For both of them, the desperation and the levels of sexual rawness they experience are shameful, and they can have a better transition if their best friend isn't there to hear every bit of it. Besides, Jaemin is still an omega, and Donghyuck is an alpha. Their instincts don't understand the concept of friendship and mistakes while they're blinded by pain and need.

This time, Jaemin's heat thunders on him without previous warning and Donghyuck has to hit Sunwoo up by himself, and on top of that, he has to take care of him until Sunwoo arrives.

Perhaps that's why Jaemin finds himself calling for Donghyuck, even when Sunwoo is in the middle of knotting him, even when Jaemin is being ripped apart by pleasure. It’s all about Donghyuck, Donghyuck, Donghyuck. The embarrassment runs deep and merciless inside him, but he can't repress that reaction; his omega doesn't need Donghyuck, but it needs more than this. Donghyuck's scent brings the familiarity of love and affection, no matter if it's platonic, and that's what Jaemin craves.

“You kept saying Donghyuck's name,” Sunwoo tells him that same night, once Jaemin's body has taken pity on him at last and they're simply touching each other, keeping each other close for control and comfort.

There's no judgment in Sunwoo's voice, or in his eyes as Jaemin glances at him. He looks so tired, however, that Jaemin wants to pull him down for a rewarding kiss; Sunwoo always does his best to please him, to alleviate his heats. It's a sort of sex that differs greatly from their usual encounters, because it's not only for pleasure, and today the gap heavies on them like a rock.

Moaning another's alpha name while being knotted could take a toll on any alpha, and even if Sunwoo is generous and understanding, Jaemin doesn't want to step on his self-esteem, not even involuntarily.

“I'm sorry,” Jaemin muses, lifting his hand to caress Sunwoo's cheek. Sunwoo smiles at the gesture and turns his head to peck the back of his palm. “I don't know why that happened.”

“I'm fine,” Sunwoo assures him. And he's either honest or easy to believe, because Jaemin doesn't perceive any lie. “I'm not judging you, you know. If your horny self has a penchant for an alpha like Donghyuck, I can't relate to it, but I respect it.”

Jaemin whines at that, and by the time he tries to swat Sunwoo away, he's already rolling over the bed to dodge the attack. His laugh vibrates in Jaemin's chest, and though his cheeks are burning and he doesn't know how he's going to look at Donghyuck tomorrow, Jaemin bursts into laughter too.

“Sunwoo, don't torture me.”

Sunwoo shrugs at that, but as soon as Jaemin waves at him to close the distance, he happily obeys. Alphas are incredibly weak for heat pheromones, which allow Jaemin to give orders and get away with every single slip-up. That's the reason Sunwoo isn't offended right now: because Jaemin must smell, taste, and feel like paradise to him, and he'll give up his pride for a while just to enjoy the perks.

“I deserve to have fun,” Sunwoo claims, slithering over Jaemin without warning. Jaemin accepts the proposal with a smile, sneaks a leg around Sunwoo's hips, and they clash into a long, lazy kiss. The pheromones that clutch onto the kiss are enough words for them. Sunwoo sounds intoxicated when he breaks off the kiss to say, “You look pretty even when you're saying another man's name, though.”

Jaemin tugs at his hair as a warning, but Sunwoo grins, pleased with the response. “That's enough teasing for tonight.”

It's not the first or last time it happens, however. When Jaemin’s heat drags him into hell again, Sunwoo makes sure to control his new outbursts. Every time Sunwoo catches Jaemin's mind slipping away from him, maybe to Donghyuck, maybe to other alphas, he seals his cries with a kiss. He silences his pleas, protecting him from the embarrassment that he’ll feel later, once his heat is over and his logic is back. Jaemin doesn't have to ask for it: Sunwoo knows that it's shameful for him, that Donghyuck can hear him, and so he tries to shelter Jaemin's intimacy too.

By the time his heat ends, Jaemin only has one certainty: his omega instinct is sabotaging him on purpose. It’s taking revenge on him for ignoring his feelings. The morning Sunwoo leaves, with a sweet kiss to say goodbye and a promise of coming back if Jaemin needs him, Jaemin doesn't dare to step out of his room for a long time.

He knows that Donghyuck is at the apartment. There's someone else with him, too, that seems to part in the afternoon, probably because Donghyuck is worried that Jaemin's seclusion is due to the fear of facing a stranger with the post-heat shame still on him.

There are a couple of inevitable consequences. Even though Donghyuck always gives him space after his heat, he doesn’t wait forever. Sunwoo's departure is the sign that his heat is over, that Donghyuck is free to walk around the house without fearing that he'll cross paths with an omega in heat, and Jaemin shouldn't have any reason to hide for so long.

Donghyuck texts him for dinner, something along the lines of _we don't have to talk but come out and eat, dumbass_. No promises, no deal to not mock Jaemin. He doesn't need to be told twice; considering the turmoil spinning in his head, the dilemma of breaking up with Sunwoo or staying with him, confronting Donghyuck after moaning his name during his heat is inoffensive.

Donghyuck is in the living room, only wearing a pair of red sport shorts, his legs up on the table and a can of coke in his hand. It reminds Jaemin of why he shouldn't be ashamed: Donghyuck might be attractive to other omegas, pristine and perfect and confident, but Jaemin knows the version of him that sits on the couch shirtless and ignores his team's diet in favor of unhealthy snacks. Donghyuck has always been a bit of a mess, one that Jaemin has to fix himself, and totally not his type.

“How are you feeling?” Donghyuck shoots at him, straightening up at his presence.

An evaluating glance is all Jaemin needs to wince. Behind Donghyuck's innocent question, there's a mischievous gaze and the slight curl of his lips. It's the bait that Donghyuck expects him to take, just so that he can make fun of him for coming with Donghyuck's name in his mouth.

Jaemin lifts his index finger, eyebrows arched, and grunts, “Don't look at me like that, ever again, in your entire life.”

Donghyuck snorts so hard that he has to set the can on the table not to spill it all over the couch. In surrender, Jaemin walks up to the couch and plops down, arms crossed over his stomach.

Donghyuck was watching some dramatic love comedy, but now that Jaemin is next to him, he scoots closer and lays his head on Jaemin's legs. The proximity alerts Jaemin for a second, but it's his own paranoia: after his heat, he always has the false sensation that he's still reeking of pheromones. But Donghyuck settles on his legs without trouble, relaxed, and there's nothing unusual in Jaemin's scent.

“Love you too, baby,” Donghyuck whispers, smiling up at him. Jaemin doesn't bother to argue with him; once his shame dims out, it will be entertaining to see Donghyuck's inflated ego in action. “How did Sunwoo take it?”

“None of your business.”

Donghyuck grumbles at that, annoyed, but he doesn't mean it. Given that he accommodates further on Jaemin's leg and his pheromones thicken with contentment, Jaemin assumes that he's just excessively happy of having Jaemin for himself again.

“This isn't about me, I hope you know that,” Donghyuck mutters then, cheek squeezed on Jaemin's thigh. “I just want you to be happy.”

And an omega that suffers through his heat, even with a knot, isn't happy.

Chenle's parties are the origin of all evil, and as Jaemin stumbles into the garden of a guy he doesn't know, surrounded by students that he has never seen or talked to, he remembers why he wanted to refuse the offer.

He lost Donghyuck one hour ago, and at some point he started wondering if somehow he had ended up in the wrong house, in the wrong party. Despite his sobriety, Jaemin was tired enough to distrust his senses. Inaugurating spring break with a party should have been his second priority, and at least for tonight, he should have slipped into bed and passed out for a whole day.

To his luck, the power of his mind wouldn't make him hallucinate Donghyuck making out with a stranger in the garden, pressed against the barbecue and with their hands on dubious places.

Jaemin is used to Donghyuck's antics, and he knows for a fact that while drunk Donghyuck loves making out with boys at parties, his sober self hates it. It's one of those preferences that Jaemin has never managed to pin down, but he supposes that Donghyuck dislikes the lack of control. Very alpha-like. It's not the same to get into bed with someone he's already familiar with, someone he knows he wants to fuck, than following a sudden whim in a party while he's not in his best state.

That’s why Jaemin doesn’t hesitate as he grabs Donghyuck by the arm and forcefully jerks him away from the boy.

“Come on,” Jaemin orders him. The other boy is a beta, one that doesn't seem to appreciate that a lower rank has interrupted them, so Jaemin just glowers at him and hisses, “He's taken.”

Cheeks red and a silly smile, Donghyuck clings onto him for support and Jaemin leads him back into the house, where they find something akin to peace. Most people are dancing in the garden, while a few students are inside chatting and serving themselves drinks, and miraculously the couch is half-empty. Jaemin throws Donghyuck there, not sparing a glance at the two girls that giggle at their behavior, and Donghyuck immediately spreads on the couch with a grin on his face.

“I'm not even that drunk,” he tells Jaemin, even if his expression alone betrays him.

Jaemin grabs his leg to make some space for himself, and then sits by his side, cackling as Donghyuck hastily hugs him.

“Drunk enough to not distinguish that that dude was playing on the lowest league,” Jaemin teases him. “No wonder he was all over you. I saved you from your future regrets.”

There's no retort for that, maybe because Donghyuck is in a good mood or maybe because Jaemin is right. Donghyuck hums in agreement, and Jaemin takes a deep breath, feeling like a babysitter. Given that this party is full of strangers, they’re the safest on the couch together, so Jaemin gives himself a moment to analyze the rest of the house.

Renjun and Jeno are by the garden's door, hands interlaced while they whisper words to each other. Jaemin would bet half of his legacy that they're flirting, but that doesn't faze him anymore, since his friends seem to be eternally trapped in the honeymoon phase. Chenle's characteristic laughter can be heard from the kitchen, and Jaemin swears he hears Mark and Sunwoo as well, though that might be his mind playing tricks on him.

Jaemin doesn't understand why Jisung's presence, his scent and his aura, are invisible until their gazes meet. Jisung is talking to a girl – an alpha, Jaemin registers automatically, just to soothe his own instinct – that seems to know him. Even though it's absolutely stupid, Jaemin's stomach twirls at the sight.

He doesn't have any reason to suspect, but his omega instinct sways in the opposite direction, and Jaemin needs all his strength to silence that concern. In the case Jisung was flirting with her, Jaemin wouldn't have any right to feel protective or possessive. Jisung is shy, too shy to chat up people at parties, and that’s where Jaemin’s pang of jealousy is born from. But maybe this is the key Jaemin has been looking for all this time, and it's ironic that he needs a stranger to show him the possibility.

Jisung might not like men. Or he might not like omegas.

That would explain why he finds Jaemin attractive but doesn't consider him beyond that, or why he's so scared of being misinterpreted. Jaemin assumed that he didn't want to look like a rude, entitled alpha, but Jisung's fear might be different: he might fear encouraging someone else's feelings by accident, as he knows he’ll never be able to return them.

All of a sudden, Jaemin feels like he pulled the trigger on himself.

Donghyuck nudges him, dragging him back to reality, a spark of pity in his eyes. “Go ask him now, he's happy and unsuspecting.”

Jaemin is bare, transparent, and Donghyuck doesn't need to ask to know that he's digging his own grave in that small corner of his head.

“You're terrible,” Jaemin croaks out, but he has no courage to fight, to reproach him that it's a terrible idea. “Ask him what?

“If he’s interested in you.” Donghyuck leans back on the couch, detaching from him in the process. His apparent nonchalance isn't credible. Jaemin scowls at him, so Donghyuck shrugs and sputters, “Then wither while you pretend you're not dying to go there and figure out if he has feelings for you.”

The shot hits the bull's eye.

Jaemin covers his face with both hands and inhales, trying to calm down. It's not fair that he has to take such a big decision in the middle of a party, but that's his life. He can't let himself fall in love and keep Sunwoo as his little heat toy, compromising two friendships and hurting their feelings. In fact, he's certain that Jisung won't ever accept any advances as long as he's with Sunwoo; he understood the nature of their relationship, and his lack of initiative has sent Jaemin a very clear message.

Jaemin wouldn't want Jisung to tuck him away as a second choice either.

“I'll be here, Jaemin,” Donghyuck insists then, as though he can read his mind. Jaemin secures his pheromones, conscious that he's exposing himself through them, and that his scent will be overbearing for Jisung too. “Go.”

As Jaemin stands up, his legs barely support him. The mere prospect of jumping into Jisung's head, of having a normal, serious conversation with him charges against him, but Jaemin has always been that kind of coward.

Jisung smiles at him once he spots him, so Jaemin stays a bit far away, trying not to interrupt his conversation with the girl. Much to his shock, Jisung quickly wraps up the conversation. Jaemin watches him gesture to the kitchen and come up with a lie so fast that it's shocking; he's nice and genuine, but too smart for his own good. And when Jisung moves straight to the entrance, not even sparing him a glance, Jaemin trails behind, wondering why they can't stay inside, why they can't speak in public.

But Jaemin prefers this: they step outside, and when Jisung closes the door, the noise of the music thins out until they can hear each other's breathing. Jisung looks pretty tonight, with his questioning eyes and his flickering attention. He’s unusually tall, because he’s not slouching, and now he towers over Jaemin just slightly. His alpha aura is more palpable tonight, Jaemin notices, but he doesn’t know why.

They remain quiet for a moment, their shoulders pressed against the wood of the door, face to face, as though looking into each other's eyes will solve all the mysteries between them. Jisung's eyes are quite dark, but there are gold stripes in them, little paths that seem to drive Jaemin to the deepest corner of his soul. His scent is soft and careful, but for once, it's filled with a heavy note of anticipation.

Jaemin wishes he knew what Jisung wants from him, because in this instant of insanity and doubt, he's disposed to give him all.

“Is Donghyuck okay?” Jisung asks him instead, serious.

Jaemin's response sounds robotic even to his own ears. “Yeah, luckily he's just happy drunk.”

“I've never seen him sad while drinking,” Jisung points out. All in all, he isn't interested in their small talk either, because without waiting for an answer, he slips his hand over Jaemin's cheek and whispers, “Why are you sad?”

The blow is stronger than Jaemin could have ever imagined. Jisung's palm on his face, an electric shock that runs through his body like mortal venom, like the announcement of the sweetest death. Jaemin has never perceived Jisung as an alpha until now, but the moment Jisung grants him a gesture of affection, he melts under the pressure of months of wondering.

Jisung's scent isn't different; he simply has incredible control over it, and now that he doesn't intend to hide his pheromones, they unfurl over Jaemin.

“What?” Jaemin muses, but he can't remember all the reasons he planned to lie to Jisung. His scent is so sweet, so caring, and Jaemin has never felt this loved. Not this way. “I'm not sad.”

Jisung's expression slightly contorts at the lie, but the steel of his patience holds them both. “Tell me the truth. Whatever you say, it will stay between us.”

Jaemin wants to caress Jisung's hand, to feel the bump of his knuckles and breathe the endearment in his pheromones, and ask all the questions that have been eating him up for months. Ignorance is a blessing, and Jaemin doesn't want to hurt Sunwoo. Jisung is giving him the chance to share their secrets now and then forget about them, if that's what Jaemin chooses.

And if he asks the wrong question tonight, Jisung won't resent him for it. That's the final push that Jaemin is looking for.

“Are you not interested in omegas?” Jaemin asks him, voice wavering, the darkness behind Jisung full of colors.

There's no reaction, not at first. Jisung's hand slowly travels down, from Jaemin's small cheek to his neck, there where he should have a mating mark if he was tied to Sunwoo, and then to his arm. When Jisung tickles the palm of his hand, Jaemin can't hold back the urge of pressing their hands together. Jisung understands. He allows him to clutch onto his fingers, onto the direct response he can obtain from his skin instead of his words.

“I’m not interested in anyone,” Jisung admits, his gaze soft on him. Jaemin feels dizzy out of the blue, like he can't breathe anymore, but Jisung squeezes his hand and saves the last of his stability. “Unless I am.”

Even tonight, when Jaemin is allowed to delve into Jisung's hidden places, he's hard to grasp. But Jaemin makes an effort for him.

Jisung isn't interested in anyone, not in general. He's not into omegas, betas or alphas, but when they stare at each other, when Jisung momentarily glances at Jaemin's lips, or when they mirror each other's shy smiles, it's undeniable that Jisung feels a connection with him.

Jaemin isn't just anyone.

“You're the weirdest alpha I've ever met,” Jaemin whispers, because it's true, because that's a wonderful observation that he's just discovered. There’s relief tingling all over him, on his skin, vibrating against Jisung's smooth hand. “I think I'm not always going to be the fastest to understand you, Jisung.”

The smile that breaks on Jisung's face shatters a part of Jaemin too, a part that he's never getting back.

“I don't mind,” Jisung says. Jaemin can imagine why: he must be used to people not comprehending his logic, or why he doesn't pursue omegas or betas like the rest, or even alphas. “I don't always understand myself, and to be honest, I don't understand you either.”

When Jaemin opens his mouth to respond, only a weak breath escapes.

That's the confirmation that even though Jaemin hasn't been revealing any of his secrets, Jisung knows that he's not completely sincere. It's not hard to figure out that Sunwoo isn't a simple friend, but the mere idea of explaining in detail his reasons burns Jaemin in shame.

“I know you need time to solve whatever is going on with you and Sunwoo,” Jisung adds then, not disposed to let the silence devour him. Jaemin's hesitation is already a negative, strong reticence that won't allow them to pry further into Jaemin's problems, and Jisung recognizes his defeat. “But I need a reason to not move on.”

Jaemin has good intentions, but he could be one of those guys that find joy in playing with alphas. In receiving attention without commitment. That's how the scenario looks for him, the villain that Jaemin is building out of himself: an older omega with enough experience to give him hope and then break his heart, while securing another alpha by his side to inflate his ego.

And maybe Jaemin would never hurt Jisung on purpose, but the sensation of endearment and excitement in his guts is terribly scary. If only he breathed in some courage and took the last step, right here and right now, he'd have to follow his own promise and put his life in order for Jisung's sake. An attempt is always that: an attempt, leading to failure or success, and when it comes to Jisung, Jaemin doesn't wish to risk it all just to destroy him.

His omega grunts at him from inside as he steps back, but Jaemin has already made a decision, and neither his instinct nor his heart can knock him off.

“I can't give you one, Jisung,” Jaemin lies, subduing all the reasons that dance in the lightest corners of his mind. If he allowed himself to be brave, just for a moment, both of their dilemmas would end tonight, but in the prospect of failure, Jaemin has no option but surrender. “It wouldn't be fair.”

Among all the possible reactions, this is the one that hurts Jaemin the most: Jisung expected that. He raises his eyebrows at him, surprised, but after a split second he nods, accepting. He expected that, even if he dared to open up to Jaemin, Jaemin wouldn't return the favor, that he could go back home without a reason to trust and wait for Jaemin.

More now than ever, Jaemin realizes he doesn't deserve the chance Jisung has given him.

And worst of all, Jisung isn't disposed to fight. He pulls the door open and, without a word, leaves Jaemin behind, alone in the cold of the night.

For the rest of the year, Jaemin's most common words are, “We're not talking about it.”

And still, every once in a while, Donghyuck sends him that look full of concern, a silent request for Jaemin to admit that he's having a hard time.

Jaemin never takes the invitation.

For Jaemin, this is how the world works: he takes care of his friends, and no one is allowed to take care of him. Donghyuck invents new strategies to worry about his well-being, but he never succeeds in making Jaemin spill all his feelings at once. If Jaemin needs a shoulder, Donghyuck stays with him, cooking or cuddling or marathoning the first TV show that pops up as Donghyuck caresses through his hair, shamelessly leaving his scent on him so that Jaemin finds his own peace.

Donghyuck's alpha presence is a temporary measure that doesn't fix Jaemin's dilemma.

And then, the bubble of unresolved problems shatters.

When everything seems normal, when Jaemin has distanced himself from Jisung, Sunwoo has a protective outburst – a sign that his alpha is still uncomfortable, that the subtle problems lying underneath are stronger than they think. The fight explodes during a party, after an alpha touches Jaemin’s back to chat him up, his intentions obvious. Sunwoo has a bad reaction. Even though it’s meaningless, even though they’ve discussed a thousand times that Jaemin can defend himself, it soon turns into a physical fight. Donghyuck jumps in to help and separate the other alpha and Sunwoo, and though the chaos doesn’t let Jaemin get mad at them in the moment, afterwards he swirls into anger.

The argument with Sunwoo lasts hours. They scream at each other at Sunwoo's place, disregarding that his flatmates are in their rooms, and words turn too ugly and real, turn into truths that they won't be able to ignore, and lies that will haunt them for weeks. Donghyuck is waiting for Jaemin to come back that night, awake, but one look is enough for him to understand that Jaemin doesn't need an ear, just a hug.

That’s just the beginning.

Right after finals, Chenle throws a party to celebrate the end of the university year. As usual, no one has the guts to miss it, because Chenle takes great offense when his friends dismiss his parties. After a long year of tension and stress, it’s messy, wild, and the perfect recipe for disaster. When Jaemin spots Jisung and Chenle making out in one of the rooms, all he can do is storm out – not out of the room, but out of the house, trying to get as far away as possible.

Only Donghyuck trails after him. Sunwoo is too star-struck at his reaction to follow him, and since they lock eyes for a moment before Jaemin loses control, Sunwoo knows that it’s not a good idea to ask. Jaemin himself doesn’t know what he’s doing, but his pheromones invade the atmosphere, charged with anguish and confusion, and he has to step out of the house without giving any explanations.

All of them know that Chenle and Jisung are just friends, that some drunk kisses shared at a party won't change their relationship, but the walls close around Jaemin like a shark’s jaw, and he needs to escape to the night.

Even though they're far away from home, that night Donghyuck holds his hand and accompanies him during the one-hour-long walk home. By the time they reach the apartment, Jaemin is so tired that Donghyuck has to help him get into bed.

They don't speak about that either.

It's all about choices, and this is the path that Jaemin has chosen. It's a path that makes his instinct crawl under his skin like a parasite, makes Jaemin wish he could follow the print of his own steps to the starting point. But then summer comes, a blow of frozen air in the asphyxiating heat of his head, and his new choice is escaping.

On the first day Jaemin goes back home, Donghyuck decides to dedicate him a private party.

Jaemin isn't naïve enough to believe that the little party isn’t targeted at him, no matter how much Donghyuck insists. Donghyuck just wants to make him feel welcome, without the burden of being important, and Jaemin grants him that.

After three months in his town with his family, it's easy for Jaemin to drown in that pit of self-doubt. The light that illuminates his world has changed: it tells him that the lack of contact with his friends is an insuperable breach.

Unlike Donghyuck, most of them weren’t disposed to bother him all summer, and now Jaemin regrets not paying them enough attention. They all have had wonderful holidays, Jaemin knows that much. Renjun sent him pictures of Jeno and him on the beach from time to time, smiling and posing for him. He hasn't had news from Jisung and Chenle, and Sunwoo and Mark nearly disappeared from the map. Except for eventual conversations late at night, Jaemin hasn't had the chance to deepen into what's going in Sunwoo's life; he has the sensation that Sunwoo agreed with him, but he was too busy to sit down and text Jaemin day and night.

But when Jaemin crosses the door of his apartment and finds all of them there, his gaze looks for Sunwoo first. It's a habit. Instinct. Donghyuck and Sunwoo are the pillars that keep him in once piece, the foundation of his sanity, and their mere presence marks a stark difference from the summer Jaemin had.

Donghyuck covers his face with kisses, much to everyone's amusement, and Jaemin even catches Jisung smiling out of the corner of his eye, no jealousy or resentment towards them. He wonders if he'd hold still if it was Sunwoo, or if Jaemin decided one day that Jisung was just a whim of a few months and that his friend is a better alpha for him – an alpha he's disposed to burn himself for.

“I missed you,” Sunwoo whispers into his ear, tucking Jaemin in a hug.

Jeno screams at them from the other side of the living room, asking what they want to drink, and they scoff in the middle of the hug, aware that they can't have a single moment of privacy around their friends.

“You did?” Jaemin retorts, as though he expected otherwise. He doesn't doubt that Sunwoo might have missed him, but there's always the question about how much of that is emotional and how much is sexual – Jaemin wouldn't blame him for the latter, not after he experienced his last heat alone. He missed Sunwoo the most then, as shameful as it is. “Should have called more often, then.”

Sunwoo detaches from him with a knowing smile.

“You needed to breathe, so I let you breathe.” He cups Jaemin's neck and rubs there with his thumb, hard enough to alert his omega, to pull a reaction out of him. “Did you?”

It's the right question, and at the same time, the wrong one. Jaemin's break was meant to clear up his head, to give him a new perspective and a drawn direction, but in Sunwoo's arms and with Jisung's attention on them, he's more lost than he's ever been.

“We'll see,” is all Jaemin responds, which doesn't leave Sunwoo content. Jisung looks away from them in that exact moment, as Donghyuck tugs him all the way to the kitchen claiming that the youngest always has to help with dinner, and Jaemin focuses on Sunwoo with a hint of desperation. “Stay tonight?”

The response isn't immediate. It's slow and well-thought, because Sunwoo doesn't predict the invitation, doesn't understand it. Jaemin's body is accommodated and attached to him, but his mind isn't, and the long break they had must have been an turning point for him.

“Donghyuck is going to hate you,” Sunwoo says, shaking his head.

But his smile betrays his true thoughts, and his scent softens until there's no trace of tension, just a breeze of satisfaction. Maybe it's a mistake to drag Sunwoo into his bed now that Jaemin could begin from zero, but his natural pheromones don't leave room for guilt to develop. He's making Sunwoo happy with this, thus it's worth it.

Jaemin presses a casual kiss on his cheek, which earns him a disgusted grunt from Chenle, and claims, “It's always fun to madden an alpha.”

Sunwoo cackles at that, and later, when Jaemin tells Donghyuck that he's spending the night, his disgusted expression is a small piece of joy amidst Jaemin's anxiety. He latches onto Donghyuck's side most of the night, afraid that he’ll need him not to crash down, but there's no danger in hanging out with his friends after so long. There are no arguments, nor fights, nor dirty looks thrown at each other.

Their fight runs deeper than that, underground, so that they can't smash it to pieces. It moves fast through pipes and secret tunnels, and when Jaemin stares at Jisung across the couch, he wishes for a moment that they could solve this like any other couple. That they could scream and argue, and then apologize, and Jisung didn't sit there pretending that not having Jaemin doesn't hurt.

Because his indifference makes Jaemin believe that it indeed doesn't hurt, and that he's the only one who fears that one day one of them will fall in love with another person, and then there will be no going back.

There’s a baseball match playing on the TV, one which Renjun and Mark wanted to watch, and they all pretend to be invested in it for fun. With alcohol running through them and the excitement of being together again, the night becomes a blur in Jaemin's memory.

He doesn't know how he ends up by Jisung's side, leaning his head on his shoulder and Jisung's arm around his waist, both of them laughing at how Donghyuck relentlessly picks on Renjun because his team is losing.

Jisung's scent is stronger now, Jaemin notices, or maybe his sensitiveness towards him has grown. It's more solid, appeasing, the sort of scent that can lull anyone into nice dreams. Jaemin could be living in a dream, and that would explain why no one pulls them apart, or why he feels like he can behave like this and not feel guilty afterwards for leading Jisung on.

Three months feel like an eternity now that he’s in Jisung’s arms. He doesn’t think he could survive another three months without him.

“Had a good summer?” Jisung muses at some point, caressing Jaemin's thigh with his bony hand. Jaemin can't utter any words, but he hums in affirmation, almost a purr. Jisung lets out a small laugh at his way of communication and says, “Me too. But I'm glad to be back.”

The shiver that pierces a hundred holes in Jaemin's spine is innocuous, but it’s also the reason he’s tugged back to reality. Jisung is glad to be back _with him_. Whether Jaemin prefers Sunwoo over him or not, Jisung's feelings haven't evaporated. He can live off of Jaemin's scarce attention.

Of his scarce moments of truth.

Jaemin doesn't intend to be cruel, but he's still obligated to answer, “You're wasting your time.”

And this time, Jisung doesn't choose silence.

“So are you, right?” His fingers tap over Jaemin's waist, but he remains calm, confident. Jisung isn't blind to his feelings: he knows that Jaemin isn't in love with Sunwoo, not in the way he should be. Any alpha would realize, except the victim himself. “And I don't judge you for it.”

A little judgment wouldn't do Jaemin wrong, but it would be useless. He needs the world to stop spinning and the sky and the sea to exchange places just to change the way he observes his surroundings. He needs Jisung to fracture every drop of logic and reason in his head, so that Jaemin feels brave enough to invade his space and press a kiss onto his lips, no matter if Jisung can bear the weight of an omega like him or not.

Jaemin flattens his cheek against Jisung's arm, unconsciously sealing their scents together. The print of his scent sticks to Jisung's clothes, and he absorbs all of Jisung's pheromones for himself. The security of having Jisung so close is what sinks Jaemin deeper into his instinct, the reason he can't dismiss Jisung's words and warn him off. He wants Jisung to stay, even if it's hopeless, even if it won't bring them the connection they need.

“We can waste our time together,” Jaemin says, so low that Jisung shouldn't have heard him.

But he does. Jisung holds him tighter, and the night dances away in front of their eyes.

The deal doesn't come off as a surprise.

Renjun has never kept secrets from Jaemin, and therefore, Jaemin knows about his little problem before it becomes common knowledge among their friends, and way before Jeno tries to set a deal with Donghyuck.

But even though Renjun shares his thoughts and suffering with him, aware that no one else will be able to relate to his experience – in Chenle's case, because he doesn't have enough experience, and for the rest, because they don’t understand how heats work – Renjun never described how deep the problem ran or how that affected Jeno too.

But when Renjun shows up at his door, unannounced, eyes red and swollen, Jaemin assumes the worst. Jeno and Renjun rarely fight, except for that time they took a break in their second year; they had a specific reason back then, and since they got back together without looking for a solution first, the same issue returns to bite them.

It’s merciless this time.

“I don't know if I can spend another heat just with Jeno,” Renjun explains, curled up on Jaemin’s couch, his cheeks wet with tears. Jaemin presses a tissue against his face, trying to help him, but Renjun doesn’t even mind his own tears. He speaks through hiccups, fighting against his unstoppable crying, and Jaemin sits on his lap to cradle him. He hopelessly wishes he could soothe Renjun like an alpha, but all Jaemin can do is listen to him – and perhaps that’s enough, because no one else can listen to Renjun. “It hurts _so much_ , even if he does his best. We’ve tried so many things- I told him last night that it's still not enough and he started crying. I know he wants to help me, but it just doesn't _work_ , and it's weighing his self-esteem down too.” Renjun flicks his gaze towards Jaemin’s face and sobs, “This doesn’t depend on him.”

Betas and omegas aren't a perfect match. It's always betas and alphas, betas with other betas, or omegas and alphas, and the cruelty of their ranks doesn’t leave room for other options. Jeno and Renjun started dating because they wanted to, because they were enamored regardless of their ranks, and they disregarded their own nature to love each other.

Renjun needed a knot, and they couldn't change that. They deemed that it was a tiny detail they could fix later, however, once their relationship settled down and they were familiar with each other's needs. Jeno and Renjun were only nineteen back then, infatuated and naive, and believed that love would be enough.

After three years, the only certainty is that they were wrong.

“I guess you need to arrange sex with an alpha, babe,” Jaemin softly tells him, afraid Renjun will rebel against the truth and take it out on him. Renjun is too nice and too sad for that tonight, though. He sniffs, fisting the front of Jaemin's shirt, and nods to acknowledge his idea. “There are services that could help you, but you must be used to Jeno- I mean, to having sex with someone you know and love, so that option is probably too cold for you.”

Renjun's small laugh is full of anger and bitterness. “I don't want to pay to fuck. And sleeping with someone else might be too much for Jeno to take.”

That's a possibility they can't ignore, but the problem is bigger than Jeno's ego. Jaemin is certain that resorting to someone else for sexual satisfaction is an awful idea for Renjun too. He's always leaned to the romantic side, to serious relationships, except for that small fling with Hangyul when Jeno and he broke up for a while. Renjun can’t do sex without love.

Jaemin knows that sleeping with an alpha, just once, proved Renjun that the pain during his heat wasn't normal. He keeps that to himself now, however, because if he rambles on and convinces Renjun that he's right, it could lead them to a definitive break-up. That has to be their choice, without inputs from their friends, and that's the reason Jaemin tries to stay neutral.

“I'm sure you'll find a way, yeah?” Jaemin mutters, and then he kisses Renjun's forehead, staying there until Renjun closes his eyes in relief. “Should I call Jisung? His scent will be helpful.”

To his surprise, Renjun is so desperate that he accepts, fervently nodding at the idea.

Jaemin leaves him on the couch for a couple of minutes as he calls Jisung, but this issue is quite complicated to explain through the phone, so he limits the explanation to the fact that Renjun is crying because he fought with Jeno. Jisung almost has a heart attack through the phone and assures him that he'll arrive in ten minutes, no excuses or prying questions, and Jaemin returns to the living room with a calmer heart.

“Is Donghyuck arriving soon?” Renjun asks him, throwing him an embarrassed, worried look. His gaze roams to the entrance, as though the idea of Donghyuck catching him in tears terrifies him. “If he sees me- he's going to tell Jeno.”

Jaemin doesn't doubt so, but given Renjun's state, he retorts, “Breathe, Renjun.”

His friend follows his advice, inflating his chest before releasing all the air with a shaky exhalation. He looks like an absolute mess as Jaemin returns to him and embraces him again, but Renjun needs that reassurance so much that he clings to the hug without hesitation.

Jaemin mutters, “Donghyuck has classes all afternoon today, so we still have a couple of hours. Besides, I wouldn't let him snitch on you.”

That’s believable enough for Renjun to relax, but every minute until Jisung's arrival is torture. Jaemin thinks about Jeno as well, because even if he's as upset as Renjun, he might just swallow it down and deal with it by himself. Admitting that his mate needs a knot, that he needs a higher rank must be soul-crushing. It can crush him in other ways as well. Jaemin can imagine that for Jeno, it’s harder to share it with his friends. After all, it's his nature that dictates that he isn't enough for Renjun, and not the other way around.

When Jisung reaches the apartment, he's out of breath. He has the decency of messaging Jaemin instead of ringing the bell, to not alarm Renjun. They only need to exchange a significant glance by the door for Jisung to understand how bad the situation is, and Jaemin looks at Jisung with hesitation; he’s a young alpha that has little control over his own nature, but they’re relying on him for his. He’s not sure if Jisung can do more harm than good, though that’s not in his hands: if Renjun wants him, Jaemin is no one to tell him off.

“He’s here?” Jisung pants, confused at Jaemin’s attitude. Still, he doesn’t look past Jaemin, doesn’t look for Renjun. His eyes evaluate Jaemin like he can hear his thoughts, his doubts, and he fidgets on his feet before adding, “I didn’t know if I was supposed to bring you something.”

Jaemin shakes his head, but that’s a little mistake that spreads his pheromones everywhere: a scent tinted with anguish and worry, and a bit of self-hatred, that hits Jisung with full force. Jisung dips forward, wrapping his hand around Jaemin’s arm, and out of the blue his scent lingers around Jaemin.

Jaemin blinks up at him, disoriented until he understands that Jisung is asking for permission to use his scent on him. To soothe him. An alpha's pheromones are powerful towards all ranks, in different senses, but Jaemin knows that he's weaker to Jisung, weaker than he should be, and this is dangerous for him.

However, he nods.

“Jisung,” Renjun whines from the couch, peeking as though he doesn't want to interrupt them.

It’s a reminder that Jisung isn’t here for him, that even if Jaemin needs him, he shouldn’t cave in. Biting his bottom lip, Jaemin raises his chin towards Renjun, and Jisung understands the order right away.

“Hey,” Jisung greets him, a mellow tone that, even though it's not directed at him, rips Jaemin's determination apart too. Jisung walks past Jaemin so fast that it seems impossible, and before anyone can say anything, he crawls on the couch. Once he settles, he ushers Renjun with a mellow, “Come here. Don't cry anymore, I got you.”

Witnessing the scene is touching, but it also awakens a special sort of jealousy within Jaemin. Renjun crashes into Jisung’s embrace all at once, without delicacy or care, but Jisung takes the hit and encircles him, indulging the subtle hint of terror in Renjun's body language. The effect is immediate, magical: Renjun goes limp in his arms, hides his face against his neck, and the crying stops in a matter of seconds.

Jaemin stalls in his own living room, too coy to approach them, too scared of letting Jisung perceive his pheromones right now. It's not jealousy, not exactly, because Renjun is his friend, and he's mated, and he's too sad for his omega to perceive him as competition. But Jaemin can't lie to himself: part of him yearns for Jisung's touch, for that little moment of closeness they're having. Allowing someone to drown him in pheromones requires trust and will, and Jaemin feels both towards Jisung, but it's a line that, if crossed, will change their friendship.

“Jaemin,” Jisung whispers, though he doesn't turn to look at him. The moment Jisung's voice slips into his ears, Jaemin can't remember for how long he's been standing there, or why his omega is so reticent towards them. “Can you come here too?”

Maybe it's the alpha order, or maybe it's just because it's Jisung and Jaemin is dying to fuse against him too. As Jaemin walks around the couch, Jisung's expression shifts into contentment, a proud smile on his face. Jaemin doesn't comprehend why Jisung would be proud of him, but he is, and he returns the smile as a reflex.

The only explanation is that Jaemin is under a spell: he finds his own place against Jisung's embrace, half for Renjun and half for him, and shame is the last of his feelings as he burns under Jisung's pheromones.

“It’s fine,” Jisung tells him, adventuring into Jaemin's gaze at last. Jaemin lifts his head to experience better the power of Jisung's eyes on him, and for an eternal second, he feels the most important person in the world. Maybe he is, because Jisung roams his hand over his hair and whispers, “Need you here.”

Jaemin can't conceal the response of his body. Every hair of his body stands on end, cold running through him, and he drowns in the depth of Jisung’s voice. Jisung glances down at his arms, at his goosebumps. He caresses there, traveling over the bumps on his skin. Jaemin wonders if he’s ever done this to another omega. If, until now, he didn’t know he could have such a strong effect on others – on Jaemin, too.

No one else could break Jaemin's composure so easily, and that's where Jisung's danger lies.

Renjun falls asleep in ten minutes, rocked by Jisung's pheromones and the silence of Jaemin's apartment. It's hard for Jisung to wriggle out of Renjun's grasp without waking him up, but with Jaemin's help, they leave Renjun clinging onto one of the cushions instead, legs up to his chest and a blanket over him.

When Jaemin pads to the kitchen, Jisung silently shuffles after him. The silence that sits between them is comfortable. The calm after the storm. Jaemin suspects that a cuddling session might have shaped Jisung’s nervousness to the opposite side of the balance, and now, when he looks into Jaemin’s gaze, he merely breaks into a smile.

Jaemin does, too.

“Donghyuck will be home in one hour,” Jaemin warns him. Donghyuck’s presence doesn't affect Jisung, but Renjun will need someone to leave with him, and that means Jisung will be gone before Donghyuck shows up. If Jisung's roommates don't mind, he could spend the night with him. Going back home isn't an option for Renjun tonight. “We're not supposed to spread _this_ , okay?”

Even if it’s a secret that can’t last for long, it’s still private. It’s still about Jeno and Renjun, and no one else.

“I know,” Jisung assures him, impassible. He wouldn't gossip about Renjun, anyhow; the adoration they feel towards each other is based on mutual trust, similar to brotherhood rather than a simple friendship. However, that doesn’t mean Jisung knows every little thing about Renjun, and when Jisung dedicates him a confused glance, Jaemin guesses the next question. “What's going on, exactly?”

Jaemin imagined that Jisung didn't know. It's too intimate, and someone like Jisung, without experience, couldn't have helped Renjun to solve this. Renjun was aware of that, and until today, he hadn’t needed an alpha to calm him down with his pheromones. It’s natural that he looked for that consolation in Jisung. He carries that air of purity and kindness, and Jaemin is sure that he would never judge anyone for their choices.

“It's about his heats,” Jaemin explains, careful, watching his words. He observes Jisung’s reaction, how Jisung's eyes widen in a blink of surprise that comes and goes as fast as a comet. Jaemin can’t blame him. A regular domestic fight was more plausible than something so visceral and vital as their rank compatibility. There's no point in beating around the bush, so Jaemin is concise, “He needs an alpha.”

“Oh.” Jisung's attention drifts to the living room, as though he fears Renjun will reprimand them for their conversation, but then pink swamps his cheeks and he confesses, “I didn't know that could be a problem.”

It has to be a joke. Or so Jaemin supposes, before the sweet taste of Jisung's pheromones informs him that he's not kidding, that he doesn't understand why a beta wouldn't be compatible with an omega.

A knot grows thick in Jaemin's throat as he musters the courage to ask, “What do you mean? You've never heard that betas aren't good matches for omegas?”

Jisung shrugs, a response between not knowing and not minding; considering his lack of shame, Jaemin is sure that Jisung doesn’t deem it that important.

“My dad is a beta and my mom an omega,” he admits, much to Jaemin's shock. “I always thought it was one of those excuses to control who could date omegas and who couldn’t.”

Even though Jisung ignores his perplexity, Jaemin is torn between awe and anger. It’s difficult to tell if this is a joke or not, and though deep inside Jaemin knows that Jisung wouldn’t be so insensitive, Jaemin can’t believe him. Beta-omega couples are incredibly rare, always with a time limit on them. The fact that Jisung’s parents built a family, that they're still together, is an achievement itself.

It explains so much about Jisung, about how he approaches his own world – with care, with curiosity and without prejudice. Jisung wasn’t born different. He was made different.

“Maybe it was difficult, but they made it work. I wouldn't say that in front of Renjun because-” Jisung ponders for a moment to choose his words, and then says studies Jaemin’s expression and mutters, “I don't want him to think that the problem is either Jeno or him.”

Jisung's parents are an exception, but they're proof that it's possible, as long as their bodies are attuned to each other. Jaemin doesn’t have the heart to pry further, to ask if they imprinted on each other or it was a coincidence. Anyhow Jisung is right. It would be terribly cruel to remind Renjun that their ranks aren't a wall itself, just a barrier, and it’s a matter of being able to surpass it. The rest of the ingredients are what determine if Jeno and Renjun can complement each other.

Running a hand through his hair, Jaemin sighs a tired, “Maybe they're the problem, Jisung.”

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees. A ray of pity crosses his semblance, pity that means surrender, yet he says, “But we'll have to keep that a secret.”

Jaemin would never break Jeno and Renjun apart on purpose, but he wonders if they will jump over their issue again, until it explodes once, twice, and a dozen times. They've always seemed perfect for each other, so happy, that it's ironic that their nature is against them. It’s unfair, and at the same time, fair.

It's also a flawless comparison: Jeno and Renjun are working against the world to stay afloat, while Jaemin has his perfect mate in front of him, refusing the unavoidable outcome. Jisung mirrors his gaze, an eyebrow raised, as though their thoughts are interlaced, as though their whole nature is plotting to remind Jaemin that he's making a mistake by not acknowledging the tug towards Jisung.

“Do you know how to keep secrets?” Jaemin asks him, taking a step forward. He grasps the edge of the counter to stabilize himself, but Jisung smells _good_ , and Jaemin can’t help but yearn for that proximity.

Instead of tensing up, Jisung deflates with a smile, eyes squinting with amusement. Maybe he doesn’t notice Jaemin’s nervousness, or maybe that’s the reason he’s capable of keeping his composure: because he’s still soaked in his alpha mode, and there’s no room for shyness, to remember why Jaemin intimidated him.

“Nope,” he answers, lips extending into a smile. When Jaemin steps forward, a frown blossoming, Jisung promptly backs away; even if Jisung’s manners don’t falter, it’s a clear message about how he won’t give into Jaemin’s wishes unless he speaks up first. “So don’t tell me any, Jaemin.”

Their secrets aren’t so secretive, after all.

The deal is expected, reasonable even, but their choice of alpha isn’t.

It's a matter of time. When Donghyuck tells him that Jeno proposed to him to help Renjun with his heats, Jaemin has to make a great effort to control his words. His instinct screeches at the idea of their mated friend sleeping with Donghyuck, but his rational side reminds him that this is normal. Other couples resort to this solution too, to services and friends and embroiling people into sex to save their relationship.

Donghyuck is their safe choice. He's close to both of them, he's single and most importantly, he's experienced. Their desperation doesn't leave them many options anyhow. Technically, Sunwoo fits the requirements as well, but his relationship with Jaemin is stable enough to discard him. No matter how platonic it could be, Jaemin doesn't want Sunwoo in bed with Renjun. He doesn’t want Donghyuck either, but he has to remind himself that this deal is the patch for Jeno and Renjun to be happy, and after all Donghyuck is an alpha – an alpha that has always found Renjun frustratingly attractive, and that just needs some approval to take the offer.

He wears his best façade for Donghyuck, and once he starts, it's not that complicated to run with his theory and convince himself as well. Jaemin trusts Donghyuck for this. He's slept with mated omegas before, when they needed it, and Renjun needs it.

The news spreads through their group like wildfire. Renjun is quite shy, but their circle is considerate and sensitive, so none of them bring up the topic in public. Jaemin bites the secret back for a while, even for Sunwoo; since he spends so much time with Jaemin at their apartment, he'll inevitably find out on his own. Explaining the new deal to Sunwoo would be strange – sometimes a look is all they need to reach other, and Jaemin is avoiding the day all the pieces fit inside Sunwoo’s head at last. The parallelism between Jeno and Renjun, and Sunwoo and him is latent and easy to figure out, and Jaemin doesn’t want him to reach that point.

Against all odds, Jisung and Chenle learn about the gossip in a few days, and despite how discreet Renjun is trying to be, he admits that he resorted to Jisung for advice. That revelation confuses Jaemin, but he's afraid to ask Renjun why he would choose someone like Jisung to approve the deal with Donghyuck. Apart from being an alpha, he doesn't have any knowledge when it comes to relationships; he might understand Renjun's struggles, but he’ll never comprehend the extent of them or, for that matter, will never be able to give Renjun proper advice.

But overall, Jaemin is afraid that Renjun will point out his hypocrisy, that he’ll sport that characteristic scrunch of skepticism on his face to remind him that he has no right to judge. Not when his feelings for Jisung are so blatant.

Still, he doesn’t understand what Renjun finds in Jisung; if it’s comfort, the unbiased perspective of someone that hasn’t been tainted with prejudices or something else that Jaemin can’t grasp. He wishes he could, however, that he could shake off the sensation that he’s too much for Jisung, that he’s overwhelming and Jisung deserves to learn and grow with a boy that is more similar to him. Unadulterated, free. Not someone like Jaemin, full of expectations and plans that haven’t been outlined, and worst of all, someone that is constantly evaluating him, looking for excuses.

“Renjun wants us to be alone tonight,” Donghyuck tells him one afternoon, after knocking on his room’s door and bursting without waiting for permission. Jaemin is playing on his phone, so the interruption doesn’t annoy him – Donghyuck’s pheromones, however, are stickier than usual. “So you’ll have to sleep somewhere else tonight.”

Jaemin winks at him, sliding over the bed as Donghyuck rolls over the edge. He expected this request: if Donghyuck hadn’t asked him to leave, he’d have done it anyway. The prospect of hearing Donghyuck and Renjun through the walls isn’t very appealing, and this transition is already hard enough for Renjun.

“You’re so rude,” Jaemin protests, just to play hard to get. Riling Donghyuck up is always fun, but he only bites the bait when he’s too nervous to pick up the hints. “Where is your _please, Jaemin, I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to you later_?”

Bribes are unnecessary between them, since they always jump to help each other without hesitation, but the twitch of frustration in Donghyuck’s face is worth the joke. Donghyuck grunts at him, hauling his phone out of his hands so that Jaemin pays him proper attention. And Jaemin does: he perceives the anxiety in his pheromones, the frenetic movement of his pupils, that insecurity that is beyond unusual in Donghyuck.

“You know I will,” Donghyuck sighs. “Food, is that what you want?”

Instead of accepting the offer, Jaemin curls a hand behind Donghyuck’s head and caresses through his hair. The gesture soothes Donghyuck, and he even tilts his head to rub against Jaemin’s arm, quietly searching for more pheromones. Jaemin doesn’t bother to point it out. Donghyuck rarely shows this sort of vulnerability, and when it happens, it’s dedicated to Jaemin. There’s no other omega he trusts that much, and thus Jaemin knows better than making fun of him in his weakest moment.

“You look quite nervous,” Jaemin whispers, to which Donghyuck only responds with a grunt. It’s a soft grunt, without strength, and it puts a smile on Jaemin’s face. “And it’s cute, but I can assure you that Renjun will be even more nervous than you, so you have to control yourself.”

They had this same discussion days ago, and even though Donghyuck understands the gist of it, taking action is different. Jaemin has faith in him, because despite the nuances of their deal and the consequences it might have, he’s sure that neither Jeno nor Donghyuck will fall into a game of possessiveness. Renjun is mated, anyhow, and it wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m controlling myself,” Donghyuck retorts with a hint of confusion.

“Your pheromones are all over the place, Hyuck,” Jaemin remarks, trying not to sound accusatory. Donghyuck stills at that, enough proof that he couldn’t perceive the difference; he’s already embroiled and lost inside his own head, and that detaches him from his surroundings. “Remember it’s just sex, and you’re testing the waters. There’s nothing to be so nervous about, okay? If you can’t do it, or Renjun can’t, that’s it.”

Jaemin doesn’t know if Renjun and Jeno have a second choice, but that’s not Donghyuck’s problem. If a streak of cowardice hits in the last moment, he has the right to back out and decide that it’s too risky. Even riskier, because Donghyuck is looking forward to sleeping with Renjun, and thus he’s not coming from neutral territory. It’s in his nature to be curious, just like Jaemin would be curious about an alpha whether he had feelings for him or not.

That’s the reason Jaemin keeps his false hopes to himself. Donghyuck needs to be realistic, but he also needs to provide a safe space for Renjun, and it will be impossible if he can’t create one for himself first.

Dodging his gaze and his words, Donghyuck distractedly nods.

“Are you going to spend the night with Sunwoo?” he asks, just an attempt at changing the topic.

It doesn’t quite work, but Jaemin indulges him. There’s no point in pressuring Donghyuck when he doesn’t want to share anything beyond that blatant excitement. The fact that he can’t repress his nervousness, in the first place, must be embarrassing for him.

With a pointed look, Jaemin answers, “I guess.”

It’s what he always does. When Donghyuck has company for the whole night, Jaemin resorts to Sunwoo. Jeno, Renjun and Mark could make some space for him, but it’d be insensitive of him to spoil their routine considering he already shares his bed with Sunwoo on a regular basis.

Jaemin’s hesitation is, of course, a warning sign. A sign that Donghyuck doesn’t miss, his eyebrows arching at the speed of light and his instinct tuning into Jaemin’s scent.

“You _guess_?” Donghyuck repeats after him, judgment in his eyes. Jaemin doesn’t resent him for that, because Donghyuck isn’t truly judging him, but his choice of words. And then, upon Jaemin’s silence, he sentences, “You’re avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone.” It’s harsh, harsher than Jaemin intends, and the smile that expands on Donghyuck’s face is very telling. Jaemin is betraying himself with that lie, with the reticence and the thorny attitude. Donghyuck is an alpha. He doesn’t think arguing with him is a big deal, but Jaemin is the opposite: his defensiveness implies that Donghyuck is right, and he hates that. “It’s just weird to crash at his apartment because my best friend is fucking my friend who happens to be my other friend’s boyfriend.”

Rather than dwelling on his explanation, Donghyuck observes him with suspicion and insists, “So you’re not avoiding _him_. You’re avoiding a conversation.”

 _Fuck_ , is all Jaemin wants to answer. He wants to kick and scream and tell Donghyuck that this is a waste of time, unnecessary pain that won’t solve Jaemin’s problems. He’s stuck in the middle of rejection and a relationship that isn’t even a relationship, and Donghyuck can’t yank him out of there.

“Mind your own business.”

“I am,” Donghyuck replies. As soon as Jaemin reaches out to flick his forehead, he pretends to bite his hand; it wouldn’t be the first time he bites Jaemin for playing too hard, so Jaemin retracts his hand just in case. “You’re my business too. And-”

“And?” Jaemin interrupts him, a simple word that pushes Donghyuck to consider what he’s going to say.

“And I don’t know what happened with Jisung last year,” Donghyuck continues. That reminder is much worse than Jaemin imagined – Donghyuck is sinking his teeth on an open, infected wound on purpose, perhaps because Jaemin has been too stubborn, because he deems they can’t communicate as long as he insists on being secretive. “I would, if you told me, but alas. The thing is that you still like him, and you like Sunwoo too? You have to make up your mind.”

It’s too late to regret all his decisions from last year. He shouldn’t have rejected Jisung. He should have shared his mistake with Donghyuck, even if he would have wept at how Jaemin withdrew after Jisung admitted to being interested in him. Everyone knew that something had happened between them, anyhow, but they had respected Jaemin’s privacy.

The challenge was intimidating. The shoes too big for Jaemin, and for Jisung as well. Or that’s what Jaemin has been hammering into his head all summer.

Jaemin glances down at the bed and utters, “It’s not the same.”

“Of course it’s not the same, but that isn’t an excuse to brush it off because you already have a,” Donghyuck mimics quotes in the air, as though that’s the only way to emphasize his words, “ _boyfriend_ , but not the balls to accept that you’ll have to end that sooner or later.”

For a few seconds, Jaemin gapes at Donghyuck, until he slides a hand over his thigh and squeezes there. It isn’t as comforting as Donghyuck thinks, and Jaemin remains as speechless, but both of them know he’s right.

“What if I can’t?” Jaemin says in a whisper, almost to himself. “Things with Jisung will move slowly, I’m sure of that, but it would be cruel to move forward without telling Sunwoo.”

“Sunwoo won’t hate you for breaking your deal,” Donghyuck assures him, and he catches on so fast, so easily that it hurts Jaemin’s pride. Losing Sunwoo is an unfounded fear, because they’re not two strangers connected through sex. They’re friends, first and foremost. “You two have gotten too comfortable, but it won’t kill him to go out and find a new omega he actually likes beyond friendship and casual sex.”

Jaemin has to cut ties with one of them. Not all ties, but those intimate, blurry ties that are making everything more complicated. But Jaemin can’t imagine a future in which he doesn’t have Sunwoo in all the senses they have each other now, and yet that’s an incompatible future for Jisung. Starting from scratch with Jisung – not knowing if it will work, if Jisung is ready to explore his feelings or even to give Jaemin a second chance after he selfishly took a step back – is a game of all or nothing.

Most alphas wouldn’t grant him a second chance. That terrifies Jaemin: that decision should come from an honest place, not from a vulnerable, innocent place, and Jisung’s inexperience could taint that sincerity. Jisung said he’d wait for him to solve his issues, but Jaemin is certain he doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve Jisung at all, and no one can change that.

As soon as Jaemin steps out of the apartment, he knows that his feet won’t lead him to Sunwoo.

He has a couple of problems tonight. First, Donghyuck’s anxiety has rubbed on off him, those electrifying waves of eagerness that are nothing but worrisome. He blames his bad decisions on that: watching Donghyuck and Renjun together for their first time makes the emptiness inside him seem huge. He’s forgotten what it feels like. A first kiss, the first steps, the carefulness as one gets to know a friend from a different angle. With Sunwoo, the world is always on its gears. It spins non-stop, without trouble, with no bumps or surprises on the road.

Jaemin misses that. He misses the curiosity that Jisung sparked in him when he walked into their omega study session, or how his mind twirled around him in the following weeks. He’s tired of ignoring that Jisung has a whole world for him, without gears and with a thousand unexplored roads, and that Jaemin renounced it out of cowardice.

And as he stands in front of Jisung’s dorm, his heart straining with every beat, the adrenaline of his fears is worth it. His palms are sweating and his pheromones are thick and viscous, so Jaemin gives himself a few seconds to calm down. The unfamiliarity awakens him, for better and for worse. Jisung would never bring attention to his pheromones, even less to this sort of pheromones, but Jaemin wants some resemblance of self-control before facing him.

It’s not Jisung who receives him, though Jaemin can perceive his presence inside the apartment. Jisung’s scent is mild everywhere, except here, at home, where his scent creeps up on Jaemin with an intensity that stuns him. It takes him a while to navigate through the smell and focus on the boy at the entrance, an omega that Jaemin has seen before – it’s Dongpyo, one of Jisung’s roommates, who is staring at him with blatant shock.

“Jaemin!” Dongpyo greets him, raising his voice on purpose to alert the rest, so that they know who’s visiting. Jaemin doesn’t mind the shameless display of awkwardness, and in other circumstances it would humor him, but tonight he can’t play this game. Dongpyo notices the look in his eye right away and begins, “Hi. Uhm-”

“Is Jisung here?” Jaemin cuts him off, and before Dongpyo can answer him, Jisung stumbles into him from behind.

It’s obvious that Dongpyo was calling him, and even more obvious that Jisung wasn’t presentable to open the door. His messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing his hoodie inside out almost drags a laugh out of Jaemin, but the hope in Jisung’s pupils placates him. If Jaemin is ruining their night by showing up unannounced, Jisung doesn’t look upset about it.

“Hey,” Jisung says, and his expression progresses from incredulity to satisfaction, and then dissolves into the biggest smile Jaemin has ever seen on his lips. “Come in, we were just playing some games.”

Judging the frustrated screams coming from inside, Jaemin can imagine that he’s walked into a game night. He should have messaged Jisung to check if he was available, but that idea didn’t cross his mind until now. What strikes him now is embarrassment, a slight heat padding over his face and neck; that, unluckily, drifts Jisung’s attention from his eyes to his cheeks. He doesn’t seem to understand why Jaemin is embarrassed, but nor does Jaemin.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Jaemin utters, words tense. He clears his throat, self-conscious of all his movements now, but Jisung watches him in fascination, enthralled by this mortified version of him. “I’ll just leave.”

Before Jaemin can turn around, Dongpyo steps away so that Jisung draws closer to Jaemin. Even though Jaemin is already disposed to run away and regret all his decisions tonight, Jisung softly wraps a hand around his wrist and pulls him into the apartment. 

“Don’t,” is all Jisung whispers, an order that is, somehow, a plea. Don’t escape. Don’t regret it. Don’t take one step forward and three backward, not again.

So Jaemin gives in, for once.

He scans the living room with one quick glance. Apart from Dongpyo, Jaemin recognizes his other roommate – Hyeongjun, who waves at him with both hands and a knowing smile – but there’s also a boy he’s never met before. To his relief, Jisung reads the clues and doesn’t invite him to join the game night. Jaemin could pretend and it would cost him nothing, but the intimacy of Jisung’s bedroom is better than spending hours with his friends while wondering if he’s welcomed or not.

It’s the first time Jaemin has the chance to inspect Jisung’s room, even if he’s been there before. Every time he’s been in Jisung’s room, he was quite tipsy and accompanied by Renjun, who is always too much of a distraction for him to satiate his curiosity. Tonight he observes the little details in the room with a clearer mind, but he shuts his senses to avoid the intensity of Jisung’s pheromones. He’s more sensitive to Jisung than their friends, but at the same time he’s sure that, since this is his private space, Jisung doesn’t control how much he scents.

“I should have asked first,” Jaemin sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jisung locks the room and sends him a questioning glance, as though he can’t understand his sudden coyness. Jaemin merely shakes his head and explains, “Donghyuck and Renjun are at home tonight.”

It’s been a while since the deal reached Jisung’s ears, and against all odds, his surprise proves that Renjun didn’t tell him about tonight. Jaemin figures it’s because just like Donghyuck, he doesn’t know if they will have to call it off anyhow.

“Finally?” Jisung observes, impressed. It’s a rhetorical question that dies on his tongue. He falls right next to him on the bed, not leaving a single inch between them, and Jaemin’s stomach twists in happiness. When their gazes lock, Jaemin feels breathless – like Jisung is robbing all his oxygen, and the final blow comes in a whisper, “You don’t have to ask first.”

Jaemin has to untangle his tongue-tied words to say, “You obviously had plans tonight.”

Instead of denying the truth, Jisung laughs at him and claims, “I have better plans now.” He eyes Jaemin, as if to challenge him to contradict him, and Jaemin swears his whole body thrums with impatience. “Though I have a hunch I could ruin them with one question.”

There are so many questions that could spoil this that Jaemin can’t choose one. Maybe Jisung wants to ask why he came here instead of running to Sunwoo’s arms as usual. Maybe he wants to know if he’s already taken a decision, or if this impulse has any hidden meaning that Jaemin won’t reveal.

And tonight Jaemin would enjoy the thrill of playing with fire, but he remembers Jisung’s enthusiasm, that blinding hope in his eyes upon recognizing Jaemin at the door, and the small flames inside him extinguish.

“Then don’t ruin it,” Jaemin decides. They deserve peace too, whether it’s temporary or not, and Jaemin hasn’t gone out of his routine just to spoil his chances with Jisung even further. “You’re fine with me staying over?”

Jisung sucks in a breath, strays his eyes away from Jaemin to glance at the bed, and realizes, “My bed is a bit small for two.” It’s not that small, because Jisung is quite tall himself, but they’ll have to squeeze to fit. “So I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

The offer pushes a wholehearted laugh past Jaemin’s lips, and Jisung lowers his head in an attempt to hide his expression, evident embarrassment on his semblance.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jaemin warns him, nudging him on the shoulder. They’ve danced at parties, they’ve shared couches and beds with their friends, they’ve cuddled during movies and hangouts, and every time they return to normalcy without any wrinkle in their connection. This shouldn’t be different. “I wouldn’t let you sleep on the couch, and I think your friends would laugh at you if they saw you give up your bed for me.”

Jisung opens his mouth to retort, but he has to surrender the next second. Given the reactions he caught in the living room, Jisung’s friends must be up to date with his _Jaemin issues_. They’re the only people that Jisung can turn to for advice if he’s afraid their friends in common will snitch on him. A baseless fear that Jaemin relates to.

“I wouldn’t care if they laughed, though,” Jisung replies in the end with a little frown of confusion. Unlike other alphas, Jisung doesn’t have a strong sense of pride, no need to show off that he can handle an omega. His priority is making Jaemin comfortable, even if that gains him mocking and laughter. “Would you laugh at me?”

Jisung is aware that Jaemin's mindset is much more reasonable, that he might not have that freedom Jisung has, but he's capable of making his own assumptions beyond his omega instinct. Still, his question is serious, and Jaemin softens at that shade of concern.

“I’d never laugh at you, Jisung,” Jaemin assures him. The shift in his own demeanor is unconscious, and only when it reflects on Jisung, he realizes that he's molding his voice to be mellow, to enchant Jisung with his pheromones and his tone at the same time. “You’re considerate and smart, and I love that you wouldn’t care. But you’re not that smart when it comes to me.”

Lips parted, Jisung studies every inch of his face with endless patience, trying to decipher Jaemin. His hand slides over the bed, and before he can touch Jaemin, he fists the sheets to stop himself.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung asks him. There's no urge to fight on his face, but his words tell a different story: he's annoyed, either because he doesn't understand Jaemin or because he understands him too well. “Is this your stubborn belief that you don’t deserve to be waited for?”

It's one of those questions that could ruin their night. One that Jaemin would have never come up with himself, and after all, one that proves that nothing can truly ruin this. If any other alpha pried into Jaemin's head, his first impulse would be reticence, displeasure. But it's Jisung, who would never disrespect or hurt him, who will stop if Jaemin asks him to, and the only emotion that crosses through Jaemin is bewilderment.

Jaemin manages to breath out a dry, “What?”

The air seems to still around them, and when Jisung slants towards him and invades his personal space, there's an explosion of pheromones between them. Jaemin can't constrain them, not this time, and he doesn't wish to. Jisung's scent leaves him vulnerable and bare, and Jaemin wants to return the favor, the gesture of trust.

But Jisung is so close that Jaemin holds his breath in, so close that he can just process the deep sea of his eyes, the lull of his pheromones wrapping around him.

“I’m not wasting my time on you,” Jisung whispers, but in the silence of the room, every word thrums through Jaemin like a drum. “I want you to remember that. You're not a waste of time, and if you have to wait for me, I hope you think the same about me.”

The torrent of answers in his head seals Jaemin’s mouth. There are so many things he wants to tell Jisung that he's unable to pick one. He doesn't believe Jisung, however: if he's fixed on Jaemin, he's definitely wasting his time. Jaemin ignores if he’ll ever be brave enough to choose the hard path, instead of staying with one of his best friends. Jisung deserves an equal. Someone equally brave, and equally free.

“What I told you that night-” Jisung continues, once Jaemin's silence dilates for long enough. Both of them are petrified, only their breaths interlacing in their motionless world, and when Jisung lifts his hand and cups Jaemin's cheek, Jaemin needs all his self-control not to melt into his palm, not so submit, not to expose all his thoughts in one second. “I just didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

It's almost impossible to follow the logic of the conversation. Jaemin glances at Jisung's lips, once and again, forcing his gaze up every time. If he leaned in and sealed the tiny distance between them, Jisung wouldn't withdraw. He'd cave in, that's Jaemin's only certainty.

“Guilty over what?” he mutters.

Jisung's palm is warm on his skin. Jaemin's hands itch to touch him too, itching and itching until he watches his own fingers caress up Jisung's neck. A hundred goosebumps surge under his fingertips, and Jaemin awes at the immediate response he's provoked in Jisung. He’s still an alpha, after all, even if he’s one that isn’t interested in omegas.

Unless he is.

Jisung’s words are accompanied by a sigh when he answers, “Over not letting me go.”

The little barrier Jaemin put between them is demolished, in pieces, on the floor. Last year Jisung needed a reason not to move on, and even though Jaemin didn’t give him one with his words, he gave him a thousand through his actions. That outburst of jealousy when he made out with Chenle. His need to seek Jisung on the first night he went back to university. The speed with which he responded to Jisung’s request the day Renjun was crying.

“I already let you go,” Jaemin lies, because he wishes it was true, that he was strong enough to unchain Jisung and allow themselves to forget each other.

“Is that a lie for me? Or for yourself?” The retort is immediate, and for once it's charged with determination, with all those signs that show that Jisung isn't as oblivious as he seems. The space he grants Jaemin is a commodity for him, not a reality. And Jaemin can't escape, not with Jisung's eyes piercing through him and their personal space collapsing into one shared territory. “If you already let me go, then push me away.”

Jisung's challenge trembles through him, like an earthquake that pins Jaemin to the bed and prevents him from getting up again. His decision isn't deliberate: he holds harder onto Jisung, his instinct tying every inch of him to the alpha in front of him. Jisung embraces him, carefully tucking Jaemin's hair behind his ear and cupping his whole face with his hands, and Jaemin is drunk on his own want, on his emotions and the shine in Jisung's eyes.

“Jisung,” is the last word Jaemin's lips utter, and the final call that closes the silence between them.

Jaemin's eyelids drop with all the weight of his insides. Jisung is sweet; his lips, his pheromones and the caution he uses to kiss Jaemin, as though any harsh movement will pull them apart. Jisung parts his lips and Jaemin thaws in the hot tenderness of his mouth where, at last, he finds the biggest explosion of pheromones he's ever sensed. He doesn't taste like an alpha, and at the same time, he does.

It's almost ironic. He sinks his fingers in Jisung's hair, and kisses him deeper, harder, losing the last bit of his pride just to memorize Jisung’s mouth. It doesn't make sense that Jisung's kisses are loaded with his scent, while his scent itself is mild and controlled, but Jaemin tastes it once and then he can’t stop.

The stark contrast turns Jaemin insane and, even worse, ignites his possessiveness in one blow. If Jisung was his, only Jaemin would have the privilege to feel this. He doesn't want anyone else to know that the path to Jisung's mind is through his mind. He doesn't want Jisung to kiss another omega with this impatience, with a lack of control that he never transpires in public. He doesn't want anyone to know that this Jisung exists. That boy that couldn't look him in the eye on the first day they met is now leading him back on the bed, and Jaemin is so, so overwhelmed, so utterly lost that he hasn't felt this wanted in his whole life.

This is what it feels like. It's not about freedom, but honesty. Jisung's kisses are sweet because he loves him, yet rough because he's loved him for too long without anything in return. It's not a deal, a duty, or a conditioned decision.

Jaemin isn't used to that.

He curls a hand between them, and with a swift move, he makes Jisung budge. It takes him a moment to understand that Jaemin needs to stop, but that he's not rejecting him. Jisung detaches from him with a gasp, as though he's been swimming underwater without oxygen. Even apart, his gaze settles on Jaemin's mouth right away.

Jaemin has trouble to stare into his eyes as well, so he focuses on the weight of Jisung's body on him instead of looking at his slick lips. It's a good distraction as he recovers his breath, as both of them comprehend what they've just done: something that is as inevitable as terrifying. Perhaps a mistake. Perhaps not.

“Enough?” Jisung asks him, unconsciously licking his lips.

Jaemin's pheromones must be there too, must be pleasant for him, and that thought drives Jaemin to plant a short kiss on Jisung's mouth to appease him. Jisung blinks down at him, but he doesn't chase after him. Jaemin already interrupted their kiss, and Jisung doesn't seem disposed to break his trust. The smile that the little peck draws on his face is more than an answer.

“Enough,” Jaemin confirms. He feels like a kid that has never been kissed before, panting through his mouth, his heart deafening. A few kisses have sucked all his energy, and he isn't sure if it's because Jisung's alpha is tremendously powerful deep inside or because, in reality, Jaemin is just in too deep. Because he's already wired to collapse under Jisung. “You're wearing your hoodie the wrong way, you know?”

Entranced, Jisung has to process the accusation for a while. He opens his mouth to protest, but when Jaemin shoots him a grin from ear to ear, he merely looks down at his clothes. Jaemin's words click then.

“I know,” Jisung groans, rolling off Jaemin out of embarrassment. He falls on his back, but instead of shying away, his inquisitive gaze observes Jaemin, Jaemin and his smile, Jaemin and all those cues he might or might not be able to pick up. “All of us were shirtless because it's- well, home. I realized too late that I didn't flip the hoodie, but I could smell your anxiety and my hoodie seemed stupid in comparison.”

It's an unexpected confession. Jaemin would have never suspected that the reason behind this cute mess was that Jisung wanted to check on him as fast as he could.

“That was a very unnecessary explanation,” Jaemin points out, just to hide his own shock. Jisung doesn't retaliate, but releases a scoff, almost like he can tell where Jaemin is going. “Do you always get this talkative after a kiss?”

Jisung isn’t made of steel. The excessive excitement is palpable in his scent, and Jaemin knows that he’s still nervous, but not as agitated as Jaemin. Having the upper hand is what gives him advantage under that question.

He twirls on his side to take a better look at Jaemin, interested, and claims, “You can find out that yourself. Can't you?”

Jaemin surely can.

Jaemin doesn’t tell anyone.

As soon as he’s back at his apartment, he grabs his scent remover and rubs Jisung’s scent off him. Even though Jisung barely touched him beyond some kisses and curling up against each other while sleeping, the sheets were already impregnated with his scent. Jaemin smells more like Jisung than like himself, and he’s determined to avoid explanations. If he doesn’t remove Jisung’s pheromones from his skin, Sunwoo will notice them even from a distance. Jaemin is his, and Sunwoo is programmed to catch the slightest changes, just like Jaemin would know right away if Sunwoo spent the night with another man.

The euphoria of last night is still walking through every fiber of his body, and part of him demands him to confess, to run to Donghyuck or Renjun and tell them that he kissed Jisung. But his friends have bigger problems than this, and overall, Jaemin is embarrassed about his own behavior – of his own insistence to keep his feelings for Jisung a secret. He’s made everyone believe that he wasn’t going to give Jisung a chance, and ironically his instinct stomped on his decision without any tenderness.

He convinced everyone, except himself.

Jisung has turned Jaemin invisible too, because despite how obvious and clumsy he feels, none of their friends suspect. Maybe they’ve grown used to Jaemin’s hidden up and downs, have learned that it’s better to indulge his attempts at pretending, or maybe Jisung’s kisses have hauled Jaemin into that invisible world no one else can reach.

Jisung is better than him in all aspects. His attitude remains immovable, stuck on those longing gazes of adoration towards Jaemin, on his occasional shyness, his carefulness. He doesn’t look like an alpha that has won a game of pull and push, but Jaemin suspects there isn’t a loser in this game either way.

It doesn’t feel like they’re playing. Jisung pulls him into his own study sessions and convinces Jaemin to skip the omega sessions twice within a week, but he always has a good excuse for Renjun and Chenle. Jaemin is familiar with alpha antics, and this is nothing but that; it’s a watered version of them, however, because Jisung doesn’t have the weapons other alphas handle.

He doesn’t pressure Jaemin. The mere act of having him near is enough, and he doesn’t ask for kisses, doesn’t even bring up the topic. Jaemin wonders if he’s holding back for his sake, because he’s smart enough to intuit that Jaemin would prefer another kiss over a conversation. Their silent complicity comforts him, and if Jisung is content living in this limbo, so is Jaemin.

By the end of the week Jaemin has run out of excuses, so when Renjun invites him to the library, he can’t opt out with another lie. He was supposed to spend the evening with Jisung there, but there’s a party at the beach tonight and they’ll see each other then anyway. Renjun waits for him in front of the library, and just by the way his face lights up at the sight of Jaemin, it’s worth it. It’s been a hard week for Renjun too, much harder than for Jaemin, and he shouldn’t have neglected him.

Renjun greets him with a hug, and they slither inside while animatedly chatting in whispers. They’re lucky the guard is an alpha, because Renjun only has to flash a smile at him to avoid a scolding, and they move to the most isolated corner of the library. The study booths are more private, but when it’s only the two of them, that privacy just entangles them into talking instead of studying.

Jaemin settles next to Renjun, and for a split second, he perceives how intense Donghyuck’s scent is on him. Given that it should have worn off by now, Jaemin’s mind tricks him into believing that he has turned crazy or that he’s merely smelling those traces that Jaemin always carries on himself. But then Renjun whips his head to look at him, and the movement brings a wave of scent that engulfs Jaemin’s senses.

There’s no doubt about it: Donghyuck’s scent is still clinging to Renjun.

“How was it?” Jaemin asks, unable to contain himself. Renjun’s eyes widen at the question, and to his shock, he recoils with a hint of shame. They’ve always discussed their sex lives – in fact, Jaemin is sure he knows every single thing Jeno likes in bed – and though the situation is unusual, Renjun doesn’t have any reason to feel uncomfortable around him. “You’re not going to tell me anything? Come on, I have to hear him fuck almost every week, your judgment won’t be invasive.”

Renjun sinks his face in his hands, but from this angle, Jaemin sees the subtle smile on his face. His embarrassment is a positive sign, not the kind of shame that would impose bad feelings between them.

“It was great, okay?” Renjun surrenders in the end, his voice muffled against his palms. Jaemin covers his own mouth not to laugh out loud in the middle of the library: Renjun transpires awe and impatience, like he’s been enchanted. He doesn’t protest when Jaemin’s head falls on his shoulder, but he straightens up and shakes him off with a scoff. “God, even outside my heat, it was mind-blowing. I had forgotten what that felt like.”

Jaemin doesn’t have any input for that. He’s only slept with alphas, and he doubts that will ever change. Some omegas are attracted to betas, some aren’t, and Jaemin belongs to the latter. If Renjun’s hell has been similar to not having sex at all during his heats, then Jaemin understands why he would resort to this, or why he’s equally coy and happy after getting some relief.

Tilting his head, Jaemin pokes with, “And Jeno?”

There’s no intention to create a fire, and Renjun seems to understand that. It’s a logical question for Renjun, even if Jaemin knows that directly asking Jeno would be disrespectful – no one would enjoy sharing their mate with a higher rank, especially when that rank is an alpha.

“He was a bit iffy because I smelt like Donghyuck afterwards but-” Renjun sighs, but rather than stressed, he’s disappointed. “He’ll get over it. Just needed a few days to cool down before meeting Donghyuck again.”

Time is the best cure for their instinct, Jaemin knows that much. In his case, however, not even time is able to peel off his little addiction to Jisung. Half a year and a whole summer should have been enough, yet they weren’t.

Peeking at Renjun’s face better, Jaemin shoots, “Are we safe for tonight’s party?”

Renjun nods. Jeno wouldn’t join a party if he thought his instinct was still so sharp that it would lead him to fight Donghyuck.

“How’s Donghyuck?” Renjun asks then, and though he redirects his attention to his books, his intentions are palpable.

Jaemin grins at him, amused. Donghyuck and Renjun haven’t talked since their night together, just like Jeno didn’t reach out for Donghyuck either. There must be many questions running through Renjun’s mind, about if Donghyuck regrets it, about if he had fun, about if their deal is about to shatter.

“Satisfied,” Jaemin whispers, a taunting dent in his voice. Renjun playfully glowers at him, but there’s no bad blood, just a cover for his embarrassment. Jaemin makes sure to be more sensitive when he adds, “Worried, too.”

Even though Renjun doesn’t react, Jaemin senses the imminent outburst of pheromones. Lying to Renjun would be counter-productive, since he’ll be able to read Donghyuck’s emotions tonight anyway, and Jaemin prefers to prepare him.

“Actually, why don’t you drop by his faculty later?” Jaemin chirps, giving Renjun’s arm a squeeze. His friend sends him a confused glance, so Jaemin hurries to explain, “He had a meeting with his tutor and he forgot his keys, so I was going to head there first. I’m sure he’ll be calmer tonight if he sees you beforehand.”

The shine in Renjun’s pupils as Jaemin rummages through his bag to fetch the keys is, at least, like a scream in the silence of the night. It scares Jaemin, because he knows what that spark means, because he can’t meddle, but maybe it’s just his imagination. Maybe he’s reading too much into it, and Renjun is just vouching for the best, both for Jeno and Donghyuck.

When Jaemin settles in the sand, stuck between Sunwoo and Jisung, he realizes that beach parties are a blessing.

Regardless of Jaemin’s self-control over his pheromones, he appreciates the wind and the current of the sea blowing their smells away. If they were inside a bar, Jaemin is sure that both Sunwoo and Jisung’s scents would be intoxicating; they’re too close, their legs pressed against Jaemin’s thighs, and the subtle mixture of pheromones is quite distracting even in the open. Jaemin barely perceives his own pheromones, but he can tell that they thicken with uneasiness when Sunwoo tucks an arm around his waist and plants a kiss on his cheek.

No one finds it weird, except Jisung.

Jisung’s attention snaps to them for a second. It’s ephemeral, but his eyes are loaded with skepticism, with a pinch of rancor, and Jaemin has to gather all his strength not to discreetly move away from Sunwoo. Across them, Chenle raises his eyebrows at him – omega to omega, he can detect what others can’t – while Renjun is too busy giggling with Jeno to notice the exchange.

It’s not the right moment to discuss that new conflict among the three of them, so Jaemin dodges the obvious tension and accepts the drink Chenle offers him. Jisung imitates him, scooting closer to Chenle and away from Jaemin, which is a subtle trick to condition Jaemin.

For Jaemin, it’s impossible not to assume the worst. Jisung’s instinct is special, but that doesn’t mean he’s free from certain behaviors. If Jaemin intuited there was a limit before, he has just discovered it: Jisung respects his decisions, but staying calm after Jaemin kissed him and then glued himself to Sunwoo, is _too much_ respect. It’s an offense to his pride – it would be, for anyone, alpha, beta or omega. Jaemin doesn’t intend to shrug off their night together and the unspoken, latent words that have been navigating between them during the whole week, but he can’t reject Sunwoo’s affection in front of everyone.

Jaemin doesn’t suspect Sunwoo, not at first. They’re used to showing these sort of gestures, especially at parties, and thus Sunwoo’s behavior could pass as normal. It’s different tonight, however. Sunwoo’s fingers dig deeper into his hood, and he’s tenser, shoulders up and straight, as if he has a reason to be alert.

And he has. Jaemin is too preoccupied with what Jisung does, who he looks at, what he says, and Sunwoo is catching on at last. It would be foolish to think that it’s not dangerous. Sunwoo’s instinct is pretty strong, and the way he latches onto him is suspicious, the premonition of something else.

Donghyuck is the last one to show up to the party, but his arrival provokes that chaos that is so characteristic of him. They play a couple of drinking games, which in less than an hour results in Renjun and Chenle deciding to venture into walking through the beach and talking to other people. Chenle mentions something about a boy, and that’s enough for Renjun to give into his request. The rest of the group dissembles in a matter of minutes. Donghyuck embroils Jeno into dancing, pulling at his hand and leading him to the group of people who brought speakers.

That’s the worst outcome for Jaemin, since neither Sunwoo nor Jisung seem disposed to detach from him. He’s not drunk enough to manage this situation alone, so he concentrates all his pleading power into a glance, looking for Donghyuck’s help before he can leave. But, well aware of what he’s doing, Donghyuck smiles at him and waves him goodbye just to disappear with Jeno.

Jaemin’s first solution is to grab his drink, but Sunwoo seals his hand around his wrist and warns him, “Don’t drink more. You’ll regret it tomorrow.”

He has good intentions, but Jaemin has known Sunwoo for too long, and therefore he knows that’s not his only aim. Both alphas at his sides emanate the urge to mark, to impose, and if Jaemin follows Sunwoo’s very logical advice, it will be registered as voluntary submission.

The last thing Jaemin wants to do right now is submit, and on top of that, his omega _refuses_ to do so while Jisung observes them.

“Are you picking a fight?” Jaemin retorts, words sweetly rolling off his tongue. It charms Sunwoo, but the effect doesn’t last – it’s a flame of surprise that comes and goes, and Jaemin has to resort to assertiveness. “Give it back.”

Sunwoo studies his expression, curious, but his free hand holds the drink to prove a point. Jaemin has to swallow down the sudden snarl that vibrates in his throat, because despite his question, crashing into an argument over alcohol is ridiculous. His snarl, however, is still loud enough for Jisung and Sunwoo to sense it, and the atmosphere heats up around them within a second.

Before Jaemin lets himself fall into that well, Jisung intervenes by taking the drink himself. Against all odds, Sunwoo is so shocked that he lets go, and just like him, Jaemin’s instinct leads him to quit.

Jaemin is the only one who is conscious of what he’s done: he’s given into Jisung’s request, just because his omega purred at the idea of obeying him, because his instinct plants thorns towards Sunwoo’s protection but seeds flowers towards Jisung.

“He’s right,” Jisung agrees, nonchalant. He ignores the turmoil of emotions plastered on Jaemin’s face, and dedicates him a strenuous, severe look. “If you want it, you’ll have to fight.”

Jaemin plays along, laughter spilling from his mouth, and extends his arms to attack Jisung. Sunwoo makes a noise of surprise and holds him by the waist, but it’s too late for Jaemin, who has already tumbled Jisung down on the sand, drink included. Jisung could definitely stop him, but he allows it to happen and then bursts into laughter, eyes crinkled up in amusement.

“God, you’re drunker than I thought,” Sunwoo remarks from behind, but his tone betrays that Jaemin’s behavior is entertaining him too.

“Still not enough,” Jaemin whines. Under him, Jisung smiles with all his teeth.

Flustered, he tries to scramble off Jisung, and when he loses balance and almost falls onto his side, it’s Sunwoo who rescues him. Sand seeps into his clothes as he regains his composure, and Sunwoo tugs at him to keep him in his embrace.

Jisung would usually ignore their physical contact, but now that they’re alone, there’s no one to judge him or to intrude, and Jaemin perceives the danger right away.

“Bullshit,” Jisung fires at him, wagging his head. He’s slightly tipsy too, though he moves onto his knees, and then onto his feet with a grace that Jaemin envies. Jaemin stares up at him, accidentally slanting against Sunwoo’s chest, but Jisung’s eyes are focused on his, an effort not to acknowledge the scene before him. “Come here, let’s splash some water on your face.”

That proposal is quite difficult for Jaemin’s blurred mind, but Jisung points at the sea with his chin to explain it, and Jaemin heavies a complying sigh. He accepts Jisung’s hands and stumbles onto him, and when he looks back at Sunwoo, he’s biting the inside of his cheek and gazing at them in wonder.

“I’ll go look for Renjun and Chenle,” Sunwoo announces. That’s not what he wants to do, and they lock eyes for a second, a mutual message that Jaemin doesn’t miss. Sunwoo isn’t going to make a scene over an omega that he doesn’t love and that he doesn’t belong to, but that exchange lets Jaemin know that he would, if it was appropriate. “They’re too dangerous to leave them alone.”

Jaemin feels entranced as Jisung softly pulls him towards the sea. They have to weave among groups of people, their shoes sinking in the sand, but Jisung slings an arm around him to guide him. Jaemin isn’t drunk enough to press against him and give into his alpha pheromones, but he’s so infatuated that he doesn’t care anymore. Abiding by rules, when it comes to Jisung, is nonsensical.

They halt right by the print of the water on the shore, where the waves timidly lap at the sand, and Jisung grabs him by hips to help him kneel. It hurts his pride, but Jaemin doesn’t protest: if Jisung didn’t hold him, his chances of planting his face into the water would be quite high.

“Be careful, you’ll get wet,” Jisung tells him as he dips next to him. He builds a little barrier of sand in front of Jaemin’s knees before the next wave crashes, but the water doesn’t even touch it.

Jaemin feels lightheaded as Jisung soaks his hand into the next wave, foam glinting around his fingers, and delicately cups Jaemin’s neck. The strike of cold water accelerates Jaemin’s pulse, and he blinks once, twice, while Jisung spreads it over his chest, his nape and up to his jaw. He’s not sure if it’s Jisung’s touch or the water that awakens him, but as long as Jisung is by his side, it doesn’t matter.

Eyes closed, Jaemin mutters a weak, “I don’t think seawater is the best idea.”

Jisung chuckles at that, but he runs his hand from the back of Jaemin’s hair and up, liberating Jaemin from his idea at last. The combination of humidity and wind over his skin keeps him entirely conscious, and Jisung must feel the shift in his pheromones, the stability that wasn’t present before, because he doesn’t insist further.

When Jaemin’s eyelashes flutter open and they face each other, Jisung doesn’t seem intimidated by their proximity. And it could be his omega or his newly acquired awareness, but Jaemin’s heart beats so fast that the world spins in slow motion in comparison. Jisung’s pupils are dilated. His breath, rushed. His hands, fastened in Jaemin’s hair and on his back, giving him the last drop of courage he needs.

They’re not enclosed in a room. They’re not safe from curious glances or the possibility of Jaemin’s life crumbling down, but the softness of Jisung’s fingers and the pink tint of his lips seem like the safest place in the world now.

Jaemin meets him half-way, their lips pressing into a tender kiss, and he swears that at that moment, the whole beach flashes with sunlight. It’s tentative, a little delusion of what Jisung intends, until he understands that Jaemin wants him as much as that night in his bedroom.

Then Jisung gently sucks on his lower lip, and that’s the cue for Jaemin to lean into his mouth with desperation, enjoying every inch of Jisung’s mouth against him. Jisung makes him burn from head to toe, and Jaemin can’t even tell if he’s holding Jisung’s head or his shoulder blades, or if he’s pathetically slumping against him, knees weak and pride drowned in the sea.

Jaemin doesn’t have time to figure it out. As fast as Jisung initiates the kiss, he draws away, breathing into his mouth one last time before letting go. Jaemin feels drunk again, but this time it has nothing to do with alcohol; it’s Jisung’s pheromones, the taste of his mouth, his pretty, honest eyes staring at him like he’s the center of the universe.

The tiny trace of bravado in Jisung’s face is a novelty, and instead of dissuading Jaemin, it hauls him deeper into that knot of feelings he can’t undo.

“Go and kiss him now if you want to,” Jisung challenges him, so firm that there’s no room for mistake, to misinterpret his words.

The fantasy collapses, and as Jisung gets up, Jaemin drops on his elbows, equally surprised and awed. That kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It was a display of possessiveness, the result of Jisung repressing his instinct until he could get a moment alone with Jaemin. A strategy to mark him, because if Jaemin dares to kiss Sunwoo tonight, he’ll taste Jisung instead.

When Jaemin starts laughing, guilty of all charges, guilty of turning Jisung into this altered, sweetly crazy version, Jisung absorbs his laughter into a breathtaking smile.

Tonight their complicated decisions are blurred in the murk of the beach, and Jaemin feels free at last.

But they don’t speak about that kiss either.

Their schedules are packed, and even though Jaemin makes up his mind a couple of times about coming clean to Jisung, that determination dwindles over time. Jisung doesn’t seem to be bothered by the immobility and the lack of progress. Perhaps he’s gotten used to Jaemin’s ways, and still, the changes in his instinct are notable.

His scent becomes stronger, and though Jaemin assumes that it’s because his omega has attuned to him, soon he discovers that Renjun has noticed it too. They gossip about it in hushed voices during a party, and Jaemin considers telling Renjun the truth, but he backs out at the last moment. If Jisung hasn’t taken that step after Jaemin kissed him in public, it’s because he’s not ready to speak about his feelings with their friends.

Jaemin isn’t ready, either.

With the mess developing between Renjun and Donghyuck, no one has eyes for Jaemin, and therefore his anxiety flies under the radar. Even Jaemin himself obviates it, too concerned over Donghyuck’s behavior to care about his own problems.

After helping Renjun with his heat, Donghyuck’s alpha takes a drastic drift. Jaemin has to scent him to conceal Renjun’s pheromones, and in that vulnerable moment, Donghyuck can’t help but confess what’s gnawing at him: during his heat, Renjun told him that he has always felt attracted to him. Renjun, since the first day, would have slept with Donghyuck if he hadn’t had Jeno.

Jaemin knows how most alphas work. Renjun’s words were imprudent, but natural. Donghyuck is incredibly beautiful, and it’s normal for omegas and betas to appreciate that at first sight. The message that crawls into his alpha instinct, however, is that Renjun could have been his.

Jaemin puts out that flame right away, but the greed in Donghyuck’s eyes isn’t just greed: it reminds him of Jisung after their first kiss. It’s hope. The difference is that Donghyuck has tasted Renjun too many times, and now he’s hooked.

Jaemin decides to believe in Donghyuck’s ability to keep his head cool, but he spirals at a vertiginous speed. He stops sleeping with other omegas and betas. He never even mentions them, and every time Jaemin nudges him in the direction of a pretty boy, Donghyuck is so uninterested that he doesn’t understand the hints.

The countdown to Donghyuck’s rut asphyxiates Jaemin, but he can’t shoot Renjun a million questions to make sure that he won’t allow Donghyuck to go further. He doesn’t trust neither, and going to Jeno would be a fatal mistake, so he only has Mark.

“You noticed too?” Mark marvels, gaping at him. Jaemin invited Mark for lunch in their favorite Italian restaurant, but given the gravity of the situation, neither has touched their food yet. “Renjun and Jeno have always had little fights, but after Renjun’s heat, it started to get ugly.”

That’s the confirmation that Jaemin has moved into action too late. The nuances of their deal might be intimate, but if he had pried into them earlier, if he’d thought about asking Mark, he’d have been able to push Renjun’s buttons. He’s certain that’s one of the biggest problems: Renjun has no one to vent to, and carrying the responsibility on his shoulders will crush him in the long run.

“How ugly?”

Mark sharply inhales, lost on how to begin.

“Jeno is jealous and upset, which is normal,” he explains, and that’s fair. It’d be odder if Jeno was a blank state that couldn’t feel any jealousy at all. His best friend is fucking his mate; if he didn’t have a hard time adapting to their new sexual life, it would be a bad symptom. It would mean he doesn’t love Renjun anymore. “And Renjun keeps telling him that it’s just a deal and that-” Mark closes his eyes, overwhelmed, and groans, “God, don’t tell Donghyuck about this.”

Betraying Mark’s trust isn’t in his plans, even though the bad hunch expanding inside his chest urges him to avoid making promises.

“I won’t,” Jaemin says regardless, and he means it.

Instead of relaxing, Mark shifts over his seat and glances around them, afraid someone will overhear them.

“Listen, it’s just that Jeno needs that reassurance, right?” Mark whispers, blinking at Jaemin like he expects a negative. His beta pheromones are pretty mild in comparison to his expression, but it might be an effect of his suppressants. “And the best way for Jeno to believe him is telling him that Donghyuck would be nothing without a knot.”

Jaemin isn’t an alpha. He’s not Donghyuck. He can’t understand how much that would hurt, and still, the pain that strains his whole body is unbearable. The mere idea of someone degrading Donghyuck enrages him – his omega instinct drives him to protect him, to take care of him, and he doesn’t want to hear such words ever again. They must be the sweetest words for a beta that has to give up his mate in favor of an alpha, though.

“Shit,” Jaemin croaks out, voice rough with pain. He presses his face against the crook of his hand, as though that could erase reality, stars under his eyelids and a warm tingling in his eyes. “But that’s not true.”

“Of course it’s not true,” Mark agrees. “Renjun is so fucking gone that he can’t even remove Donghyuck’s scent off him. He reeked of scent remover after his heat but-”

Jaemin snaps up his head, “I gave it to them.”

After Renjun’s heat, Jaemin was sure that they had bathed each other in pheromones. Scenting is inevitable, but it doesn’t have to be binding or permanent, and Jaemin had the perfect solution for them. Neither Donghyuck nor Renjun had ever used a scent remover; the latter because he was in a serious relationship, and in Donghyuck’s case, because scents had never been compromising for him before.

“Well, he still smells like Donghyuck. Our whole apartment is filled with his pheromones,” Mark says, shoulders slumping in defeat. They’re lucky that Yuta doesn’t live in the apartment anymore – an alpha would have been pretty reticent to alpha pheromones, and while it might still trigger Jeno’s instinct, it would be much worse if he and Mark weren’t betas. “It doesn’t work that well when you want to keep the scent on you.”

The implication leaves Jaemin speechless. He meets Mark’s gaze in worry, an exchange that transmits every thought that floats between them. Jaemin knows that Donghyuck is developing a protective, mate-like attitude towards Renjun, while Mark is experiencing, day by day, the erosion of their relationship. It feels like they’re connecting two wires to reach a conclusion, and that conclusion is much worse than Jaemin anticipated.

He assumed that Renjun had a little crush on Donghyuck – a crush that was platonic or sexual, not romantic – and that it was Donghyuck who was obsessing. But if Renjun wants to be scented, then they have a huge problem.

Jaemin was so, so wrong.

“I have no idea how to stop this,” Jaemin confesses. He doesn’t even know if it’s too late to stop it, but it’s worth a try. That’s better than allowing them to spiral together without brakes, and Jaemin needs to feel like he did something, anything, to help them before they crashed. Even if it’s useless. “Donghyuck won’t listen to me.”

They’re two identical drops of water. Just like Jaemin refuses to share his feelings until he’s about to explode, Donghyuck follows the same overused manual. The difference is that Jaemin is better than him at managing his emotions, and Donghyuck’s explosion, if it happens, will bring disaster upon them.

“You want me to talk to him,” Mark concludes, and it’s not a question, not even a proposal. He gives Jaemin a curt nod; he’s a beta, after all, and he can exert a bit more power over Donghyuck. “The signs are there, but this could be a disaster, Jaemin. If you and I can see it, so can Jeno. When he’s not arguing with Renjun, he’s lying to himself to keep the relationship afloat.”

Deep inside, Jaemin suspects that Donghyuck isn’t aware of what he’s doing. He’s never been in love before, and falling for his best friend’s mate will block any kind of natural acceptance. One year ago, Jaemin was still in his team – never loved, never intended to fall in love. But if he has learned a lesson after observing how Jisung’s behavior changed, how every gift Jaemin gave him tugged his alpha forward, it’s that falling for an omega definitely shapes them on an unconscious level.

“Don’t go too far,” Jaemin advises him, clasping Mark’s hand over the table. He feels responsible, as though he’s passing on the problem, and somehow he is. Jaemin is helpless, Donghyuck isn’t available for him now, and he has no option but to do this. “If he refuses to talk it out, drop it for your own sake.”

Jaemin has been lying to himself too, but his lies are entangled in a different net. Jeno is afraid of losing – his mate, his friend, his pride. Donghyuck isn’t afraid yet because he doesn’t know how much he could lose. Jaemin is afraid of being brave in all and any aspects. He needs bravery to confront Donghyuck, to break his heat deal with Sunwoo, and to tell Jisung that he wants to be with him. Only with him.

Jaemin understands fear, the grip of bad luck, and how much he could win. He just can’t take the last step alone.

“You’re too distracting,” Jisung complains, slipping down the couch with a sigh.

Jaemin glances at him, a grin blossoming on his lips at the irritated tone in Jisung’s words. It was Jisung’s idea to study at home today, even though Jaemin had warned him more than once that they always went to the library for a reason. Jaemin is used to studying outside home, since Donghyuck is pretty noisy and it’s bothersome to keep him quiet on a daily basis, but given that Donghyuck was busy with classes, he decided to indulge Jisung’s whim for once.

One hour into their pathetic attempts at studying and a couple of pecks that set Jisung’s cheeks on fire, he admits defeat. Their notes are strewn around over the couch and the small table, and Jaemin has thrown a leg over Jisung’s thigh, which tumbles down all of Jisung’s chances at once.

Despite Jisung’s protests, he seems quite content with the situation. They’ve spent most of the time chattering about idle things and laughing, and Jaemin swears that the glint in Jisung’s gaze is giving him enough adrenaline to stay awake for a whole week, to run a marathon, or to turn the world upside down for a kiss.

“That’s the reason we have an omega study group,” Jaemin smartly replies, playful fingertips walking over Jisung’s jaw. “Other ranks distract us too.”

Jisung frowns, well-aware of the jab, but Jaemin smoothens his frown away with his index finger and both of them smile in sync.

“Other omegas don’t distract me,” Jisung grumpily says, much to Jaemin’s amusement. “I think I might need a Jaemin-exclusion study group for myself.”

Pleased, Jaemin leans his head on his shoulder, and Jisung scrunches his nose at him in protest. He can’t get tired of this, of that little reminder that Jisung doesn’t like him just because he’s an omega, just because their instinct drives them to be together. Instinct can be a wonderful ingredient to any relationship, and Jaemin enjoys the traces of it that he discovers on Jisung, but it excites him to know that Jisung would have liked him anyway. That if Jaemin had been an alpha or a beta, Jisung would have looked at him with the same intense glint in his eyes.

“You’d pass all your exams with flying colors,” Jaemin replies, playing along. “But you wouldn’t have so much fun, would you?”

Jisung pulls an annoyed face for show, but before he can taunt Jaemin about how they never have fun together anyway, the door flies open with a crash. The blow of pheromones stuns Jaemin, that familiar scent that he would recognize anywhere, but today it’s tinted with rage, with anger, and the rest of Donghyuck’s emotions are nonexistent.

Clasping a hand over Jisung’s abdomen is an impulse. Donghyuck’s anger scares him, and even though Jaemin intuits it’s directed at him, the presence of an alpha at home is an antagonizing weapon. Donghyuck’s eyes, torn between rage and sorrow, land on Jisung first and only afterwards they move towards Jaemin’s face.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Donghyuck spits at him, demanding, his question evolving into a shout.

Jaemin is too petrified to answer, all his muscles stiffening as he looks between them with a hint of panic. Donghyuck’s aggressiveness is unfounded. Jisung, who doesn’t know where this outburst comes from, wraps Jaemin with his mellowest pheromones, but not even that attempt can counteract Donghyuck’s scent.

Silence is the wrong choice, because when Donghyuck realizes Jaemin won’t answer him, he glowers at Jisung and growls, “You know he’s been fucking Sunwoo for years? You’re wasting your time.”

It feels like a punch in his throat, a punch that makes a gasp fall off Jaemin’s tongue, “Donghyuck!”

It’s the truth, and Jisung is conscious that in Jaemin’s life, he’s still the second option. No one would have ever dared to be so cruel, so direct towards him, but Donghyuck’s alpha is desperate and hurt, like a wounded animal, and there are no limits for him.

Jisung doesn’t fight back, sending Donghyuck a leveled look his way. The only response at the attack is slinging an arm around Jaemin’s back, almost like he fears Jaemin will be hurt – and maybe he’s right. Donghyuck’s words reflect all his mistakes and his inability to break away, and since the moment he met Jisung, that’s been his fault.

“It doesn’t matter,” Donghyuck adds, more frustrated by the second. His lips curl up in disgust, and Jaemin recoils, wishing he could silence Donghyuck. He’ll regret this tomorrow, or even in a few hours, and Jaemin will have to pick up the pieces. “I didn’t want to talk to you anyhow.”

Anger is understandable. Disrespect, not so much. For the first time, Jisung’s tension rises in the atmosphere until it balances out Donghyuck’s scent, and Jaemin braces himself for the fall.

“Don’t speak to him that way,” Jisung growls back, and he straightens up, lifting his chin to defy Donghyuck.

Jaemin can’t repress the noise of distress that rumbles in his mouth. Donghyuck has crossed too many lines, and unlike Jaemin, Jisung isn’t accustomed to dealing with another alpha’s emotions. Jisung’s subtle instinct becomes a protective monster just to shield Jaemin from Donghyuck, regardless of how harmless he is in reality.

However, challenging an alpha in his own territory is risky, and Donghyuck’s stare thunders on them without any self-control.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Jisung,” Donghyuck grunts. It’s not a warning: it’s a raw threat, the last opportunity. He flings his back on the floor and steps back, setting a bigger distance between the three of them. That’s the last resort to avoid a serious fight with Jisung, and Donghyuck regains that logic for a second, long enough to pull away. “You’re in my home.”

That’s definitive. Donghyuck spins around and storms into the hall, heading to his room, but the seed of provocation seeps into Jisung. Jaemin has only one millisecond to grab Jisung: the time it takes him to stand up and attempt to chase after Donghyuck, either because he deems it appropriate or because he wants to put him in his place.

“Please, don’t,” Jaemin pleads, grabbing Jisung’s wrist to pull him down on the couch again. Jisung’s pupils are glassy when he glances at Jaemin, almost like his alpha swallowed Jaemin’s presence and he forgot that he was about to fight in front of him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into him.”

In a trance, Jisung drops on the edge of the couch, and Jaemin rushes to press against him, to fuse in the mess of pheromones both of them are emitting. Having him close is always a better choice than keeping the distance, and Jisung sighs in relief at the contact, no matter that Jaemin is anxious and scared.

“Don’t apologize,” Jisung tells him, frustration seeping through his words. “You shouldn’t be here now. You don’t deserve to hear that.”

Jaemin's lower lip wobbles at that, but deep within, he doesn't believe him. He nosed around for Donghyuck's sake, and he was aware that one of the consequences could be this one: the plan firing back on him. Regret isn't in his book, not when it was a desperate attempt at helping Donghyuck. He just hopes that Mark didn't receive the worst end of the stick and that this outburst was the worst Donghyuck has shown them.

“It’s my fault, I-” Jaemin begins, maybe to excuse himself, or maybe to haul Jisung out of his fantasy – that fantasy that paints Jaemin as an angel that can do no wrong – but he drops it midway. Their gazes meet, and Jisung's semblance is enough for him to intuit that all those explanations aren't necessary. Jisung doesn't care if he fucked up: he wouldn't consent to Jaemin being disrespected regardless. “I’ll check if Renjun can come now.”

They've reached a point of no return, in which Donghyuck needs the same person who caused the problem to aid him. Jaemin's pheromones won't be effective, not while Donghyuck is mad at him, and any alpha or beta will make him detonate. Jaemin doubts Donghyuck would welcome any other omega that isn't Renjun – and that's the problem. Donghyuck only wants Renjun, and he's the one he can't have.

The aftermath with Donghyuck is the hardest part.

Living in the same apartment prevents them from avoiding each other for a long time, and anyway, it isn't in Jaemin's plans to run away from his mistakes. Renjun only stays a couple of hours with Donghyuck that day, until he calms down, and then returns home. After all, Renjun doesn’t belong here – his mate is the priority, so are his life and his duties, and he can't spend a night with Donghyuck outside his heat.

To Jaemin's luck, Donghyuck sleeps soundly through the night, and when he walks into the kitchen in the morning, he's already there. Jaemin expects an argument, and somehow it is, but it's void of strength and frustration, as though Donghyuck doesn't have that much power anymore. He remains strict about how much Jaemin is allowed to meddle, has the nerve to compare the situation to Jaemin's relationship with Jisung, and then they part ways with a bitter taste in their mouths.

Jaemin isn't scared of pushing Donghyuck away with his insistence. Both of them know that among all their friends, Jaemin is the one who takes care of him the most. Donghyuck might need space and privacy, because he's too far into the game and too deep into the mud, but at the end of the day, if his feelings take the wrong turn, only Jaemin will be there for him.

“There isn't much we can do, you know?” Jisung says after a few days, as they cram into his bed to watch a movie.

It was Jisung who chose the movie, with excited claims about how he was sure Jaemin had never watched something of that caliber and pulling the laptop onto the bed. Jaemin doesn't care if it's good or not. He tends to fall asleep in the middle of movies, and this is just an excuse to spend the evening with Jisung, anyhow. It's Friday, which means his flatmates aren't around, and even better, that they won't spread rumors about how they spent the night together even if Jaemin already has another alpha.

“I know,” Jaemin agrees. He watches Jisung nest on the bed, and once he's comfortable and opens his arms for him, Jaemin snuggles against him. When he tucks his head in Jisung's neck, he realizes that it's not the best angle to watch the movie, but it's perfect to admire Jisung while he watches it. “I'm so used to taking care of _everything_ , and it's frustrating to be a bystander now. If I could I would just sit down with the three of them and would force them to talk.”

Jisung's tender eyes flash from the screen to his face for a second, and Jaemin pointedly ignores the message. It's ironic Jaemin believes in a solution for their friends, but not for himself. The idea of reuniting Jisung and Sunwoo sounds quite ridiculous, and overall, dangerous for his health.

“Renjun is a mess too,” Jisung points out, not setting foot in quicksand. “I don't think a mere talk would fix it. The three of them know what they're doing.”

Biting down the surprise, Jaemin observes Jisung's serious expression. He's not looking at Jaemin anymore, and though he seems interested in the movie, his scent shows where his true focus is on.

Jaemin sighs, “Lately it feels like you talk to him more than I do.”

Jisung understands that it's not a reproach. It's common knowledge that Renjun is hiding most of his thoughts from them. If he finds emotional relief in sharing the tip of the iceberg with Jisung, Jaemin is no one to judge.

“I'm not Donghyuck's best friend,” Jisung reminds him. He sneaks a hand up Jaemin's back and plays with the strands of his hair, a subtle way to please Jaemin's instinct. The effect is immediate: Jaemin's eyelids become heavier, a warm spot of gratitude growing in his chest. “Besides, I give pretty good advice.”

Jaemin hums a low, “You do?”

Reliability isn't the first word that comes to Jaemin's mind when he thinks about Jisung, but they’re just his mind and the foul tricks to convince Jaemin that he doesn't need him. Jisung is reliable. He's available for Jaemin whether he's upset or bored, whether he's lonely or looking for redemption. It makes sense that Renjun has reached out to him: his lack of judgment and his support are hard to find, and unlike Jaemin, he's not contaminated with his bias.

Jaemin wishes the best for Renjun and Donghyuck, but at the end of the day, the suffering he experiences at home comes from Donghyuck. His heart is egalitarian, but his mind isn't.

“Yeah,” Jisung sing-songs, nonchalant. He pulls the back of Jaemin's hair to regain his attention, and Jaemin pretends to snarl at him, which only widens Jisung's smile. “Want some?”

Jaemin wrinkles his nose at him, even though he must catch his gesture only out of the corner of his eye. “I'd bet my right hand I can guess what sort of advice you'll give me.”

The response is silence, and silence confirms Jaemin's suspicions. However, tonight he's determined to enjoy Jisung's company without further pretensions that will hurt them later. If he allows Jisung to entangle him in a web that will lead them to kisses and caresses, the next days will be torture for him. For Jaemin, too.

They settle for the middle ground, Jisung stroking his hair and Jaemin tenderly clutching the front of his shirt. The movie, Jaemin registers, is a comedy, but not even Jisung laughs while watching it. His breathing has a regular rhythm that lulls Jaemin into calmness, and when he holds onto Jisung with more strength, as though he's afraid they will part, Jisung shushes him.

“I have more advice,” Jisung whispers then, almost to himself. Jaemin feels his body so heavy that he doesn't bother to reply, but his omega grips onto Jisung's voice for guidance, for support. “But you're not ready for it.”

Jaemin's next heat arrives at the right time, and at the same time, the worst time.

Unlike Donghyuck, Jaemin has a rigid control of his own heat and, on top of that, of Donghyuck's rut. It's important to track them because, when they coincide, one of them has to leave the apartment so that neither of them has to worry about pheromones, control or protocol.

For two years, they've followed that deal to the last detail, but this time it catches them off-guard. Donghyuck's rut begins weeks early, in the middle of a bar and with an intensity that throws Jaemin off. He's lucky that Renjun went out with them, but terribly unlucky that Jeno is around too. An alpha in rut, just like an omega in heat, only thinks about sexual relief and their partner's needs, and when Donghyuck grabs Renjun against the bar, Jaemin knows that there's no turning back.

Jaemin's heat isn't due until a few days ahead, but dragging Jeno out of the bar and explaining that Renjun won't go back home with him is atrocious. Maybe that anxiety and the bitter poison in his guts are the last straw that trigger him, and when he curls up in bed that night, his skin burns with the familiar tingling of his heat. Donghyuck and Renjun are already home, and even though Jaemin should be able to hear every noise coming from the other room, the beginning of his heat slings an isolating bubble around him.

The last thing he registers that night is sending Sunwoo an almost intelligible message. Afterwards, he passes out, legs wrapped around his pillow and mouth pressed against it, repressing the first complaints that threaten to slip out of his mouth.

He can't tell for how long he sleeps, or if he sleeps at all, but he wakes up drenched in sweat and omega pheromones. Pheromones that, however, don't belong to him, but that are sweetly familiar and protective.

“Jaemin?” Renjun's voice calls him. The cadency of his voice shows that he must have called him a hundred times, but it's the first time Jaemin hears him. “Your heat took off.”

Renjun is stating the evident conclusion, but that step is vital. Some omegas get absorbed by their own hormones and are confused to the point of not distinguishing a heat and a fever apart. It's always relieving to know what's happening, to have someone hold his hand before it hits with full force.

“I can't move,” Jaemin groans. His face is sticky and wet on the pillow, and it takes him a few seconds to feel Renjun's hand on his forehead. “I'm sorry.”

There's no need for him to clarify his apology. He's sorry because he can't leave the apartment, because Renjun and Donghyuck need privacy and they won't have it this time, because Jaemin's presence will just make their already messed-up lives even harder.

“It's fine,” Renjun promises him. His sweetness drags an embarrassing noise out of Jaemin's mouth, and he has to hide his face against his arm to not humiliate himself. Renjun doesn't make fun of him. He would never, because he understands how Jaemin feels right now. “Sunwoo called, he'll be here soon, alright? Do you think you can hold up?”

Jaemin feels like he's too slow, his tongue heavy in his mouth, but Renjun patiently waits for him. His scent is already combined with Donghyuck's, and it's distracting Jaemin; Donghyuck is the closest alpha to him right now, and he's about to break into his heat, so his omega purrs for him unconsciously.

“Yeah,” Jaemin croaks out. It's a lie, but he can jerk off before Sunwoo arrives, and that will give him enough time to avoid the pain of his heat. Trying to look at Renjun's blurred face, Jaemin adds, “Is Donghyuck-?”

“Don't worry about Donghyuck now,” Renjun cuts him off.

Jaemin wants to protest, but it's useless and egoistical. Of course Renjun knows that Donghyuck doesn't feel well – beyond his rut and his recent outburst – because he's the cause of that uneasiness. Renjun's energy is getting drained as well; he looks tired, concerned and weak, and it's scary that those symptoms seem to have smoothened after spending one night with Donghyuck.

Renjun doesn't want Jaemin to worry about them when he's in heat. A bad mental state will worsen the whole process, no matter if Sunwoo fucks him ten times in one day, and Jaemin has to learn to look out for himself first. Renjun is an omega, after all, and he's absolutely capable of taking care of Donghyuck.

“I brought you one of your suppressants, just in case,” Renjun tells him then. He brings a small pill closer to Jaemin's face, just for recognition, and sets it aside on the bedside table. “I'll get back to Donghyuck, but if you need me, call me. And if you need the suppressant, just take it.”

Jaemin nods and whines at that. Receiving orders is always easier. He simply has to comply and follow Renjun's instructions instead of racking his brain to form coherent thoughts – a task that will become harder and harder by the second.

“Thank you,” Jaemin muses.

Renjun flashes a composed smile at him, and before Jaemin can speak again, he leans over and leaves a kiss on his temple. “Love you.”

Jaemin lets go of his consciousness right then, fuzzy and safe, but he's aware of his loneliness as soon as Renjun disappears. He dreams about Donghyuck first, about Renjun's soft voice and about Sunwoo's tender hands. And then his mind travels to Jisung and gets stuck there, on the cute tip of his nose and the pretty way his lips curl up when Jaemin makes him smile. On his carefulness and the awe in his eyes when he looks at Jaemin; an awe that explodes in his insides as well, every time, tireless. He wonders if Jisung will ever hate him for all those promises sealed with kisses that will never become true, or if he'll wait forever, an unrealistic delusion that makes him happy.

Jaemin clenches the sheets until his fingers ache, until his whole body screams at the tension and the hurtful fantasies in his head. He reaches out for the suppressant a couple of times, but he decides to wait – if he takes it now, his heat will be worse, and it’s better for him to endure the pain until Sunwoo arrives.

Jisung’s scent is there, interlaced with his, but it might be the remains on his own body and the sharpened sense of smell due to his heat. His omega finds refugee in that possibility, and when Sunwoo’s pheromones hit him, the effect isn’t as strong as it used to be.

But Sunwoo is still an alpha – an alpha that he trusts and loves, and whose presence stabilizes Jaemin right away. He manages to open his eyes when Sunwoo touches him, when he gently holds his head and presses a kiss to Jaemin’s lips. Jaemin moans into the kiss, relief washing over him like a tsunami, and that marks the end of his suffering.

“Babe,” Sunwoo muses, voice dripping with adoration. An omega in heat is like a gift for him, just like he’s a gift for Jaemin when he’s in rut, and he’s used to that sort of admiration. “I got you.”

And Jaemin doesn’t have to think anymore.

Losing count of the days is a given.

It’s the only part Jaemin likes about his heat. With a knot inside him and Sunwoo’s pheromones hugging him, there’s no room for overthinking, and all his worries fade away orgasm by orgasm. He’s barely conscious of what’s going at home, since it’s always Sunwoo who leaves the room to cook for them, and he allows himself to lazy around in bed during his whole heat.

Once it ends, Sunwoo drags him to the shower and they clean each other, but there’s a rift in their routine. Sunwoo’s sweet gestures are rougher now, as though he assumes that Jaemin isn’t looking for that sort of attention, and Jaemin isn’t in the best state to ask. After all, Sunwoo is allowed to set boundaries too, and he’s still there, taking care of him and drawing a line so that there isn’t any bump between them.

Jaemin doesn’t remember what he said in the last few days, but given Sunwoo’s attitude and the bad hunch in the pit of his stomach, he must have not been very cheerful during sex. There are no reproaches, however, and Sunwoo even cooks for him one last time in case Jaemin intends to rest for longer, once he’s clean and satisfied. A heat is an exhausting process, and though Jaemin and Sunwoo slept several hours today, they’re still fatigued.

“This is a madhouse,” is Sunwoo’s conclusion as he shuffles into the bedroom, bringing Jaemin’s food on a huge plate. Jaemin sits up to peek at the food, impatient, and Sunwoo laughs at him before handing it over. “Every time I go out I’m afraid Donghyuck will bite my ass.”

Jaemin hums at that, too content to worry about his housemate’s alpha instinct. This situation was an accident, after all, and neither Sunwoo nor Jaemin appreciate the possibility of Donghyuck picking a fight with them just because he’s in a rut. That’s the reason Sunwoo sneaks in and out of the room only when the horizon is clear, and for a couple of days Donghyuck’s pheromones seem to have diluted, which points to the end of his rut.

“You’re part of this madhouse, though,” Jaemin retorts as Sunwoo crawls on the bed with him. He drops on his back with a sigh, like he’s done enough work for the whole week, so Jaemin pinches his side. If Jaemin lets him, he’ll skip his classes today too and snuggle under the sheets with him, and he’d hate hogging Sunwoo for longer than he should. “The craziest people here are the alphas.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Jaemin slaps his thigh, which gains him a fake cry of pain from Sunwoo’s part. After putting on a show just to tease Jaemin, he calms down and observes him with curious eyes, silent, as though a completely conscious Jaemin is an odd image.

“Jaemin,” he calls him once Jaemin has engulfed half of his breakfast. He crosses his legs and anchors himself on Jaemin’s knees to slide over the bed, and though Jaemin startles at the closeness, he doesn’t back away. Looking into Sunwoo’s eyes becomes a whole adventure, anxiety creeping through his fingertips, but Sunwoo looks just as nervous when he announces, “I have to tell you something.”

Sunwoo doesn’t joke around with serious issues, and given the severe shade crossing his semblance, concern whips through Jaemin all at once. They haven’t left the house in days, which leaves two options: one, Sunwoo has been bottling this up until his heat ended; two, it’s about Renjun and Donghyuck. Neither option is positive.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Jaemin retorts, unable to hide his discomfort. If it wasn’t that serious, Sunwoo would rush to clarify it, but Jaemin’s words are innocuous beyond a deeper frown. Fidgeting over the bed, Jaemin muses, “You’re worrying me.”

And there must be a solid reason for it. Sunwoo guides his gaze down to the sheets and inhales, as if to gather courage, before facing Jaemin’s troubled eyes again.

Sunwoo’s voice is almost a grumble as he confesses, “Donghyuck marked Renjun.”

“What?” Jaemin says, echoing the words inside his head. “No, that’s-”

It’s possible. An announced death that they all have ignored until now, until it’s too late to redirect them, until the mistake is unfixable. Jaemin tried to help them; however, not hard enough. That’s the first conclusion he reaches: he should have done more for Donghyuck, he should have been more insistent, he shouldn’t have retracted just because his concern was invasive.

The fact that Donghyuck dared to mate with Renjun is absolutely crazy. Jaemin never thought Renjun would be so weak to fall into that game, but Jaemin clearly overestimated his self-control. His ability to ignore his feelings in favor of his honor. Not even his feelings for Jeno eclipsed the connection with Donghyuck. This isn’t about choosing sides anymore, but about renouncing. Renouncing his relationship with Jeno and destroying their circle of friends, or renouncing Donghyuck and breaking their friendship anyway.

“Breathe,” Sunwoo warns him. Jaemin doesn’t realize he’s asphyxiating until Sunwoo cradles him in his arms and bathes him in a wave of pheromones that, still, aren’t enough to appease him. “ _Shit_ , I knew this would happen.”

Jaemin collapses on him, saturated with all the possible solutions that run through his mind. All of them are useless. It’s natural for him to look for a solution, even though there isn’t any: mating is powerful and physical proof of Donghyuck and Renjun’s feelings. It’s proof that they’re mutual. It isn’t in Jaemin’s hands to detach them from each other, for it would be like fighting against the rules of the universe. Renjun and Donghyuck are helpless, because no one can undo what their instinct builds, not even themselves.

Renjun is Donghyuck’s mate now too, and they can’t erase that in a couple of days. The mating mark will remain on Renjun’s skin until his next heat, and Jaemin doubts that, by then, Renjun will still have two mating marks. As soon as Jeno sees the mark, all hell will break loose.

Almost to himself, Jaemin asks, “What do we do now?”

Their world is in shambles. He’s just spent his heat with an alpha that he doesn’t love – an alpha that is condemned to be only his friend, a toy to entertain him until Jisung and he figure out if they fit in each other’s schemes. Donghyuck has lost a friend overnight, and Jeno has lost both a friend and his boyfriend. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“Make up with Donghyuck first,” Sunwoo whispers into his ear, tightening his arms around him. Jaemin melts into his embrace, the last resort to find consolation, and nods at the proposal. “He fucked up big time. He’s going to need you, Jaemin.”

And Jaemin would never turn his back on Donghyuck.

The next days are terribly predictable.

But for once, there’s nothing Jaemin can do to help. Donghyuck is scared, but at the same time, his thrill is contagious, a maniac feeling of adrenaline and anxiety that Jaemin doesn’t know how to manage. Mating, especially for the first time, is an incomparable experience, and despite the disaster Donghyuck has unchained, his alpha still drives him to be happy deep within.

It’s the best and the worst Donghyuck could feel, flying through the stratosphere and living underground, having the only person he wanted and that could destroy his whole life.

In that state, it’s easy for Jaemin to apologize to Donghyuck and give him a shoulder to lean on. Donghyuck has no alternative but to take it. As Jaemin watches chaos unfurl, time ticking in the clock, he prepares for the inevitable fall. He’s lucky to have Jisung. He’s lucky Jisung sticks around, day and night, or that he constantly checks up on him, that he doesn’t allow him to drown in his responsibilities towards Donghyuck. Donghyuck ‘s feelings are the current that tugs Jaemin inwards, but they’re so strong that he’s afraid Jisung will be swept away with them as well.

Jisung is the rock that keeps him sane and safe. He’s there when he has to, as if Jaemin has been struck by luck, and if Jaemin asks him to stay, he complies without questions or rancor. The fact that Jisung is with him the evening Donghyuck shows up with a nose purple and remnants of dry blood over his neck, it’s a matter of probability.

They’re in the kitchen when Donghyuck shuts the main door close, but his scent and the sudden, rattling noise make Jaemin peek into the hall. His bad hunch is justified.

Jaemin stumbles forward, an incoherent trail of words rolling off his tongue, and crashes into Donghyuck. Only when Jisung holds him by the waist does he realize that he’s hurting Donghyuck, too. His fingers are sinking in Donghyuck’s face with so much strength that there are already red marks on his skin, new marks that don’t belong to his swollen and painful bruises. Even though Donghyuck doesn’t complain, even though he doesn’t mind Jaemin’s violent concern, his emotional pain creates a spiral for the two of them; a spiral that sucks him into his own cries.

Sometimes, a simple touch is all an alpha needs.

Once Donghyuck starts crying, he’s unstoppable. It’s Jisung who leads them to the bedroom, who encourages them to lie on the bed, who leaves soft touches in Jaemin’s hair and in his neck so that he has another scent to hold onto – Donghyuck’s scent is full of anguish, and Jaemin is used to Donghyuck’s pheromones, but he doesn’t have to do this alone. People say it’s in his nature, and yet, as he realizes how Jisung cares for them – bringing Donghyuck water, holding Jaemin’s hand to reassure him, to make him stronger than he is – Jaemin is certain that it isn’t about his instinct.

In theory, Donghyuck’s alpha should reject Jisung’s presence, but it doesn’t. With Donghyuck between them, Jaemin drapes himself over him and intertwines his hand with Jisung’s, throwing a blanket of warmth over Donghyuck. That seems to calm him down, and it’s a circle that works perfectly for them, at least for today: Jaemin takes care of Donghyuck, and Jisung takes care of both of them.

Jaemin doesn’t know if Jisung can’t detect all his other worries, or if just like him, he’s thinking about contacting Renjun. It seems obvious that Donghyuck got the worst part of the deal: he got the violence, the physical pain and defeat; but Jaemin knows that the complexity of their relationship goes beyond that. Renjun wouldn’t have allowed Donghyuck to mate with him if he wasn’t in love with him.

Yet, that doesn’t mean he’s not in love with Jeno. It doesn’t mean that he won’t stay with Jeno.

Jaemin stares at Jisung across the bed, at his long lashes and the palpable patience with which he’s looking at Donghyuck, and thinks that maybe he’s a bit fortunate. Bad luck has never been perseverant for him, but when it comes to Jisung, he has won the lottery.

Sunwoo loves him in many ways, but Jaemin won’t break his heart. Breaking Jisung’s heart, or his own, is a different matter. He rubs their fingers, feeling Jisung’s smooth skin and the pressure of his grasp, and blinks at him like he fears he will fade away into thin air. He could. Jaemin would deserve that, since the universe still has to pay him back for his cowardice. It’s either Sunwoo or Jisung; it can’t be both. It’s the same for Renjun, Jeno and Donghyuck, except Jaemin is hurting everyone by not making a decision, and that decision would protect them.

“Jeno will forgive you, but he needs time,” Jaemin whispers, feeling Donghyuck’s rapid breathing slow down with every inhalation.

He feels Donghyuck shake his head before muttering, “He won’t. He knows about my feelings.”

Donghyuck doesn’t need to explain that he loves Renjun; he’s never been in love and he’s never mated with anyone, and thus his actions betray his feelings. Jaemin never needed to explain his feelings to Donghyuck either, but he knows why Jisung is here, why Jaemin is embroiled in his own mess and can’t let go. Donghyuck himself is incapable of letting go, so that’s their meeting point.

Knowing that Donghyuck is in love is a privilege. Most of their friends have assumed that Donghyuck was acting according to his alpha instinct, that he was obsessed and possessive, not in love. Maybe they’d have doubted anyone else’s feelings, but for Donghyuck, the norm was to believe that he doesn’t love. Except he does, and he loves as hard and deep as any of them.

“Donghyuck, I can assure you no one knows about your feelings,” Jaemin tells him, and it’s the truth. Their friends know him well, but Jaemin has witnessed every one of his steps, every slip and the way love swelled in Donghyuck’s chest, becoming bigger and bigger until it spilled all over the place. “Besides Renjun and me. And well, now Jisung.”

Jisung might know a bit too much thanks to Renjun, but it would be cruel to give Donghyuck another detail to fix on.

Looking into his eyes with hope, Donghyuck utters, “And Mark?”

“Look,” Jaemin says, but his gaze drifts to Jisung, who stares back at him with a spark of understanding. Donghyuck wants to keep this a secret; such an illogical, childish whim that it’s hard to rebut him. So Jaemin doesn’t. His attention lingers on Jisung for a second, because he’s aware of what he’s about to say, of how that involves Jisung. “Omegas know when an alpha is in love. But betas- they have no idea how to read alphas. Jeno thinks that you want Renjun because it’s ingrained in your stupid alpha instinct to mark and own. Maybe he suspects you have deeper feelings than those, but he can’t be sure.” An omega knows when an alpha is in love, but Jisung is a sort of alpha that Jaemin has never encountered. That’s what scares him: he thinks Jisung loves him, that Jisung knows what love is, but maybe it’s just Jaemin convincing himself to perceive what he wishes to perceive. He wants Jisung to love him, to fight for him, to move the sea, the ground and the skies just for a kiss. Breathless, Jaemin tries to finish his explanation with, “And his stupid beta instinct makes him fight you, but once he sees there’s no danger-”

“They’re not going to break up,” Donghyuck cuts him off, predicting his words. If he hoped for the opposite, he doesn’t confess it, but the trembling of his voice tells enough. “That’s what you’re telling me? Jeno will forgive me when his relationship is safe because he won’t see me as a threat anymore.”

Jaemin bites back his first impulse: consoling Donghyuck. That's exactly what might happen, and lying to Donghyuck will just hurt him in the long run. Jaemin wishes their lives didn't rotate around choosing, but they do: Donghyuck has to choose between his friendship with Jeno and his relationship with Renjun, and even if he's brave enough to do so, rejection is a very plausible outcome.

Donghyuck's eyes, shiny and red from crying, pierce through Jaemin’s chest.

And then, despite how much he fears the answer, Jaemin asks the most terrible, vital question, “Do you want them to break up, Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck looks away, but there's no trace of amusement, not even of resigned bitterness on his face.

Both of them know the truth. Jaemin knows the answer.

“You shouldn't come closer.”

Renjun is on the edge of the bench, his knees pressed together and his hands tucked between his thighs. His head pointing down, his hair messy, and his frame swallowed in one of Jeno's sweaters. He smells like Jeno, but underneath that, he stills smells like Donghyuck. The sweater is a trick to fool people around him, but for Jaemin, whose senses are molded to Donghyuck's presence, his scent remains as thick and alive as ever.

Jaemin stalls by the bench, obeying Renjun's request, but he can't help the way his eyebrows knit together in disapproval. All he wishes to do is hug Renjun, to embrace him until he feels protected again. Renjun needs _that_. Without Donghyuck or Jeno's affection, after what happened, after all their friends knew what Donghyuck did to him, what Renjun _let_ him do, he's been dropped into coldness and loneliness.

Jaemin whispers, “Are you serious?”

Renjun looks small and insignificant under the soft light of the sun and the green that surrounds the paths of the campus. Jaemin used to think that was beautiful, but today he's vanishing, atom by atom, as though he doesn't belong to this world anymore. As though he shouldn't be there, with Jaemin, or anywhere at all.

“You smell like him,” Renjun mutters, not tiptoeing around the topic. “And I'll soak right away.”

There's no need for him to explain it further. Donghyuck's scent is still lingering on Renjun, thus his omega will clutch to the remnants of scent on Jaemin too. He should have used the scent remover before meeting Renjun, but he couldn't have imagined that Renjun would be so sick, so broken.

“Jun,” Jaemin says, his name just a blow of air between his lips. He sits on the other side of the bench, heart clenching inside his chest at the distance. Reality cascades over him at last. “God.”

Renjun nods at that, understanding the message. It’s just that he can’t do anything to change it. It's just the way it is, the way it might be from now on.

“I tried to speak to Jeno, but he doesn't want to,” Jaemin continues, uncertain of how much Renjun knows.

It's been days and days of messages, of calls, all of them turned down – not out of pride, but out of pain. Jeno feels betrayed, not only by Donghyuck, but by everyone that could see them falling for each other and didn't stop them. Jaemin could reproach the same mistake to him, but Jeno doesn’t deserve that; he’s had enough, and Jaemin does feel guilty for not forcing his friends to open their eyes before the monster swallowed them.

“You won't be able to,” Renjun confirms, bending his head to send Jaemin a serious, yet empty look. “He's completely gone now. I'd tell him that you mean well, but he won't listen to me, not after all this.” He stares ahead, at the few students that are walking through the paths, but Jaemin can tell that he's not looking at anything or anyone. Renjun has detached from this world, from Jaemin himself, and remains connected only by the pain they share. “He believes in what he wants to believe, but he's not a fool. Deep inside he knows I love Donghyuck as much as I love him, and he can't accept that.”

It's new. Different. Jaemin's intuition bleaches the impact of his words, but it's the first time Jaemin hears those words coming out of Renjun's mouth. Months ago, Renjun would have never preached being in love with Donghyuck. It wouldn’t have even crossed his mind. Now he does, even though it's over and in pieces, even though it means nothing to their relationship.

But if Donghyuck could hear him, if he could simply see him in this instant, he would shatter the ground underneath them in two just to have him back. That terrifies Jaemin, because he wants to protect the three of them, yet they're one step away from a new disaster.

“I can't take sides, alright?” Jaemin reminds him, voice shaking with guilt. “I can't abandon Donghyuck just because Jeno wants us to admit that he's the bad guy.”

Maybe if the story had been different, Jaemin would have blamed Donghyuck. Blaming someone for falling in love, when he didn't mean to, when he just wanted to help, is unfair.

“He's not the bad guy.” Renjun's jaw tightens with effort, as though he wants to add a thousand more justifications. He wants to put all the weight on himself, Jaemin knows that. He's the one who had a mate, who accepted the deal despite his initial attraction to Donghyuck, who didn't know how to say no in time. Jaemin can understand him: his instinct urged him to please, to make both Jeno and Donghyuck happy, but instinct doesn’t make logical decisions. “Don't leave him.”

Swallowing the plea in Renjun’s voice, Jaemin assures him, “I won't.” Even if Donghyuck had more friends to back him up, Jaemin would still stay with him. “But what about you, Renjun? Will you stop talking to Donghyuck, to me, to Jisung, just to cut all ties with him and save your relationship?”

Judging the tension in Renjun's shoulders, the intent with which he avoids Jaemin's scrutiny, he's aware of the consequences. If Jeno isn’t giving Jaemin a chance, after three years of friendship, he won't conform to anyone else. Sunwoo, Jisung, Donghyuck, perhaps even Chenle are out of the picture. Jaemin doesn't know if, in Mark’s case, living with them will shape his point of view in Jeno's favor.

“I don't even know if there's anything left to save,” Renjun admits, such a heavy, terrible confession that Jaemin drowns in stunned silence. Maybe Renjun knows the picture better than himself. Maybe Jaemin is wasting his time by trying to help him, trying to help Jeno and Donghyuck. If it's too late, then all their attempts will be in vain. “Jeno doesn't trust me anymore, and he's right about that. I don't trust myself either. I love him, but I love Donghyuck too, and my omega refuses to forget that.”

That experience is out of Jaemin's reach. His omega controls his emotions pretty often, but he's never had to fight against it; he's never been mated, so those struggles are foreign to him. It seems like it's eating Renjun from inside, however; his scent carries desperation and hopelessness, because he's aware no one can solve this for him.

“Is your omega the strongest voice now?” Jaemin asks him, his fingers unconsciously slipping over the bench towards Renjun. He's too far away, still, and he has enough time to retract his hand.

Renjun shakes his head with so much energy that his hair covers his eyes. Then he's petrified again, all his energy gone. He doesn't bother to push the hair away from his face, but underneath his bangs, Jaemin notices that his eyes are closed.

“It's not a voice,” he says. It's more than that, is what Jaemin understands. It's stronger than a mere voice in his head. “I know what it wants, it knows what I want, and it won't let me do the opposite.”

Jaemin has to make an effort to repress his curiosity. Asking too many questions will hurt Renjun, because not even he seems able to explain what’s happening to him – to his morals, to his feelings, to his instinct.

Renjun doesn't want him to ask about it, and Jaemin doesn't have any right to demand that information; it's already hard on Renjun to share that there's a path he wants to take. Still, the most selfish side of Jaemin itches to peel that secret off him. Perhaps it's a secret that would worsen his concern, because if Renjun has already chosen who he wants to be with, then Jaemin is better off not knowing; the last moment of peace before Renjun carries out his decision.

“What am I going to do during my next heat?” Renjun continues, much to Jaemin's shock. He lifts his head at last, and as he gazes at Jaemin, the intensity of his eyes chokes him as well. That exchange is a small pinch of what Renjun is feeling, but it's enough to throw Jaemin off. “I can't sleep with _another_ alpha.” His voice extinguishes in embarrassment. Both of them know that it's because he owes fidelity to Donghyuck, and sleeping with another alpha would destroy him. “I don't know if Jeno will want to touch me at all, and even if he does, my omega won't let him mark me.”

Jaemin twitches on the bench, and for a moment, he considers breaking Renjun's request and embracing him in a hug. Jeno has never turned his back on Renjun, not even while all the signs of him falling for Donghyuck started to bloom, but given Renjun's words today, Jaemin supposes that their peace is over. It's all façade, again, to hide how broken their home is.

“Renjun,” Jaemin calls him, aware that Renjun's attention is flickering, a light blinking in the night. It comes and goes, and Jaemin needs to grasp it fast enough. “Don't do anything you don't want to do, you hear me? It won't do you any good.”

Before Renjun can open his mouth, Jaemin knows that his advice is useless. Determination mixed with desperation is venom, and Renjun can't comprehend life beyond that, can't see any present or future.

“There are things I have to do,” he retorts, like Jaemin wouldn’t get it. With a sharp inhale, he grasps his own thighs and adds, “For their sake. It's just- sometimes it's too hard to push aside what I feel.”

Jaemin decides to not insist. It's the circle he's always been trapped in: he's here to watch, to soften the fall, and nothing else. Meddling is a waste of time. Even if he's not responsible for Renjun's decisions or Donghyuck's mistakes, he's disposed to take responsibility for the aftermath.

The sensation of normalcy after heartbreak is an illusion, but this time, it’s an illusion that Jaemin needs to believe.

Old secrets aren’t secret anymore, and new secrets are nerve-racking and upsetting. They dip right into Jaemin’s stomach with its thorns and sharp edges. It’s hard to reach out to Renjun, once and again, but Jaemin doesn’t want to let him go. He doesn’t want to renounce their friendship, whether Jeno will ever forgive them or not – there’s too much forgiving to do, Jaemin realizes, that might not be realistic.

Jisung is better than him at convincing Renjun to meet them. Renjun accepts him better, since Jisung doesn’t carry Donghyuck’s scent on him, but Jaemin can still detect those traces of weakness, those little moments in which Renjun perceives a few pheromones that don’t belong either to Jaemin or Jisung, and his whole world collapses in one blow.

The other side of the coin is worse, and like Jisung repeats a thousand times, it’s not for Jaemin to take. He’s allowed to console Donghyuck, but the process of healing, the long nights of crying, the refusal to meet anyone else – to not go through his rut alone – aren’t problems that Jaemin can solve.

He’s an open book for everyone except Donghyuck, whose vision is clogged with pain. Their house, their moments, their relationship, all of it is obscured behind that veil of emptiness. That veil encircles Jaemin’s neck, tightening until he can’t breathe, and sometimes he has to usher himself away from Donghyuck.

Most of the time he falls into Jisung’s embrace, within the familiar four walls of his bedroom and the perfume of his pheromones lulling him to sleep. Jisung stays in the living room some nights, busy with his exams, but he lets Jaemin invade his space. It has become his space too, whether Jisung is there or not, and Jaemin crawls into that comfort without fear, without second thoughts.

Those thoughts emanate in the morning, when he hurriedly takes a shower and attempts to erase at least some of Jisung’s scent. It’s impossible. Just like Renjun couldn’t remove Donghyuck from him, neither can Jaemin. The difference is that Jaemin isn’t mated to Jisung, that Jisung respects his space, and despite their scarce nights together, Jisung doesn’t ever kiss him again.

That unreadable alpha that was an unsolvable riddle for Jaemin is back, and for once, Jaemin doesn’t intend to solve the mystery. Under the certainty that Jisung’s presence isn’t immutable, that Jaemin might lose him along the way, this peace between them is enough. Even without kisses and sweet words, this is enough. It’s better than nothing, and at the same time, it’s the reason Jaemin never gathers courage to push the balance towards Jisung’s real wishes.

Being happy with Jisung, because of him, turns culpability into an unavoidable hole in Jaemin’s chest. He feels like he has to be available for Donghyuck at all times, but he only remembers that once he’s leaving Jisung’s apartment. In Jisung’s warmth, there’s no sense of space and time, no sense of responsibility, just a cloud that surrounds Jaemin and protects him from the outside world.

Jaemin doesn’t share that sentiment with Jisung, however. Jisung is supposed to protect him, and they’re entangled in a circle where no one looks out for themselves. Just like Jaemin is incapable of flinging Donghyuck’s pain out of his head, Jisung can’t ignore Jaemin’s trouble.

In the end, Jaemin has to listen to the voice of reason. And that’s Sunwoo who, despite being aware of the situation, has learned the limits between indulging Jaemin’s excessive empathy and helping him. An alpha with experience knows how and when to draw lines, and Jaemin needs to step out of the comfort zone Jisung has built for him.

And then there they are, Sunwoo scrutinizing Jaemin across the table, his elbows sunk on his notes after hearing his endless rant. They agreed to meet in the cafeteria, since Sunwoo needed to leave the library at least for a while, and Jaemin’s break was the only moment to have lunch. But Sunwoo had promised that he would show up, and he wouldn’t break a promise.

After one hour, Jaemin’s food is still untouched and cold, and Sunwoo’s notes are buried under his arms, crumpling under the weight of his body. Neither of them remembers them, however, too focused on each other.

“He’s not going to hate you just because you’re not with him every single second of his life,” Sunwoo tells him, arching his eyebrows in defiance. He doesn’t consider Jaemin’s explanations dramatic, he doesn’t ridicule him. The spark of seriousness in his gaze comforts Jaemin, makes him feel a little less crazy – if Sunwoo, who knows him like the back of his hand, thinks his feelings are valid, then they are. “In fact, I’m sure he’d appreciate some space.”

Overwhelming Donghyuck with concern isn’t in Jaemin’s plans. It isn’t his intention at all. As far as he can tell, the world is already throttling Donghyuck whether Jaemin is with him or not; without Renjun, Donghyuck can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Flicking his gaze from the table to Sunwoo, Jaemin lets the deepest frown bloom on his face. “How can you tell?”

Perhaps it’s obvious for Sunwoo. He needs his own space pretty often as well, and in part that’s why their arrangement has always worked so well. Even with their blurred lines and not knowing when they were stepping out of a mere friendship and into dangerous territory, the respect for each other’s space is a given. Some things are inevitable, despite the lack of romantic feelings, like jealousy and those traces of alpha instinct that rub off on Sunwoo’s placid behavior at times. Hands that linger a bit too long on Jaemin when Jisung is around to witness it, furtive glances between Sunwoo and Jisung that they might understand, but that Jaemin doesn’t.

“It isn’t that difficult,” Sunwoo says, short but sweet. He shrugs to appease Jaemin’s confusion, and then adds, “I can tell, just like I can tell that you’ve been leaning on Jisung for this instead of me.”

There’s no spite in his voice, but the pang of regret in Jaemin’s guts is almost palpable. It shouldn’t be that way: before Jisung, before Renjun was only a shadow of himself, Sunwoo was his rock. He wonders if it hurts Sunwoo, if his alpha feels replaced by the newer, shinier alpha in Jaemin’s life; if a tiny part of him craves to be loved like Jaemin loves Jisung, even if that’s not what Sunwoo wants.

Suddenly breathless, Jaemin begins, “I didn’t mean to make you feel-”

“I’m not jealous,” Sunwoo cuts him off, and he’s sincere. He’s not afraid of looking into Jaemin’s eyes, charged with stability and security that don’t leave room for doubt. Sunwoo isn’t jealous – you can’t be truly jealous of someone you don’t love – but Jaemin hasn’t treated him like he deserved. “But I’m not blind, you know? It hurts my pride a bit.” He twists his hands around each other, breaking visual contact for a second. That admission isn’t an easy one for an alpha, and if Sunwoo is slightly embarrassed, Jaemin is beyond stunned. “You said you thought he was too immature, too inexperienced.”

And that, Jaemin realizes, it’s reproach. It’s about Jaemin contradicting his own words, little lies that, although out of his hands, harmed people around him. The confidence Sunwoo felt was just an illusion built by Jaemin’s words, and time told the truth: Jisung’s inexperience didn’t translate into immaturity. And even if it had, that wouldn’t have hindered Jaemin’s interest.

Jaemin’s voice is a mere breath as he confirms, “He is.”

Sunwoo parts his lips, wordless, as though he expected Jaemin to defend him. At least defend Jisung’s honor, because that’s what a good omega would do. The difference is that Jaemin doesn’t belong to Jisung, and therefore his honor doesn’t either; Jaemin doesn’t need to rescue him from anything or anyone, anyhow. Jisung isn’t that sort of alpha.

“But you don’t care anymore?” Sunwoo asks in perplexity, and the shot doesn’t miss for a lot.

Nervously tapping his fingertips on the table, Jaemin whispers, “I do care.”

He cares, and it’s his only excuse to be a coward, to not give Jisung a chance. Being someone’s first is a huge responsibility and, though deep inside Jaemin wouldn’t mind being Jisung’s experiment, it’s the perfect, most unfair justification to throw in his face.

Jaemin buries his explanations under silence, and when he looks up at Sunwoo again, he automatically confesses, “We kissed.”

It doesn’t have the desired effect, since Sunwoo merely raises his eyebrows at him, torn between incredulity and judgment. It’s impossible to grasp what’s running through his mind, his scent blank, his gaze holding too many emotions for Jaemin to read them.

But then Sunwoo smiles, a lopsided smile that doesn’t show much amusement, and groans, “I know.” Staring at Jaemin, reveling in his shock, he assures, “I tasted him.”

It’s so direct, so unadorned that Jaemin processes his words only after several seconds. He hasn’t kissed Jisung many times, and he thought he had managed to remove his trace every time, but again, reality and assumptions rarely match.

He feels his own face bursts into flames, wonders when and how Sunwoo tasted Jisung in him, and why he didn’t mention it. Sunwoo chose silence and knowledge, or just allowed Jaemin to continue with his own fantasy, that pretty fantasy in which his actions didn’t reflect any consequences.

Propping up his chin on the back of his hand, Sunwoo laughs wholeheartedly at his embarrassment.

“Takes a smart one to be discreet, I guess.”

“Screw you,” Jaemin grunts, but he can’t deny it. He wasn’t discreet or careful, and considering how aware Sunwoo must have been all this time, he’s lucky that they’re not in love with each other. The harm done would have been irreparable.

“Don’t be rude,” Sunwoo retorts, not missing his chance to put up a fight. “I’m the one being rejected.”

Even though it’s just a joke, Jaemin winces at his harshness.

“I’m not rejecting you,” is his immediate response, almost a reflex, despite the weight of that affirmation.

But Sunwoo barely flinches at that huge promise. Jaemin doesn’t need to be a genius to know that it’s because, in the end, Sunwoo doesn’t believe him. Because it’s still a rejection, no matter that Jaemin is too scared to say it out loud.

Sunwoo shakes his head, and only out of frustration, he reminds Jaemin, “Well, then you’ll have to reject Jisung.”

It doesn’t mean that it’s what he wishes for, and Jaemin’s shame drops into his stomach as he realizes that he’s incapable of letting go, of letting others live. Sunwoo sighs, interpreting his silence the right way.

“This is absurd, Jaemin. I won’t go around sharing an omega.”

Not after they were exclusive for a long time, not after the unspoken deal that Jaemin broke the moment Jisung appeared in his life. They were exclusive by default, but not by word, because there was no one else to interfere between them.

The comfort of having each other is vanishing, however, and the realization that they never had each other dwells deeper. Sunwoo is his friend, both in and out of bed, and that can’t be changed. Feelings could grow and transform into something bigger, but it hasn’t happened, and Jaemin doubts it could ever happen. Time isn’t the secret elixir for everything.

Jaemin fidgets, staring at his own food and losing all appetite at last. He doesn’t have the heart to look at Sunwoo’s face and ask him to stay, to stay and not be loved, to stay and always feel like he’s the second option. Those fears travel in both directions. Maybe Sunwoo would have taken any other omega that wasn’t Jaemin, if the chance had arisen, but Jaemin came first and stole that opportunity from him.

“Do you even want me?” Jaemin mutters, fixing his attention on the table, just to avoid seeing the answer in Sunwoo’s semblance.

In his peripheral vision, he still catches Sunwoo tensing up, either at the question or at Jaemin’s evident insecurity. That tension doesn’t carry any cowardice, however, and Jaemin feels his heavy gaze scrutinizing every inch of his face, as though Sunwoo intends to erase his doubts with a mere look.

“I want you in many ways,” Sunwoo says, chin up. He doesn’t back out when Jaemin lifts his head and glances at him in shock, but his seriousness broadens. “But are these the ways you’re looking for?”

This time, the warmth in Sunwoo’s eyes keeps him from lying. Jaemin hates that tiny speck of instinct that crawls to the surface, the speck that encourages him to inflate Sunwoo’s ego to the detriment of their friendship, their sanity and their well-being.

“Do you want me?” Sunwoo continues, not disposed to hear the answer. After so many years, words are often useless, and only the respect for each other’s privacy remains. He’s waited a long time for Jaemin to come to terms with his feelings, and now that the waiting is done, Sunwoo is free to say, “Or do you just have me?”

When adaptation starts looking like a real possibility, fate breaks Jaemin’s hope.

Sunwoo is the first one to tell him, with a hurried, misspelled message sent in the middle of his volleyball match.

Jaemin, who couldn’t attend the match, reckons he’s imagining the notification that flashes on his screen until he dips forward and opens it. He has to read the same words a dozen times for them to filter beyond the first veil of befuddlement: Jeno and Renjun are at Donghyuck’s volleyball match, among the public. They would never be there without a reason. They’re waiting for him.

Renjun doesn’t pick up his calls, but that’s almost a given. Jaemin could call him a thousand times and Renjun wouldn’t answer, not while Jeno is next to him, not when he’s prompting and allowing disaster into their lives again. Attending one of Donghyuck’s matches is a premeditated decision, which means Jaemin can’t talk them out of it, but it’s a terrible one.

Jaemin might not have the certainty of why Jeno would accept speaking to Donghyuck, but he knows that it can’t be positive for Donghyuck. One doesn’t surpass pride and pain from night to morning, doesn’t renounce half of his friendships and suddenly wants to reconcile with the person that betrayed his trust.

The first explanation that thunders through Jaemin’s mind is that perhaps Jeno knows about Donghyuck’s one-night stand with Yukhei. It was just one night, but after so many months with Renjun in bed and a whole period of recovery, Donghyuck sleeping with someone else was progress. Or that’s what Jaemin believed. If it was enough to delude Jeno and Renjun into assuming that Donghyuck had gotten over Renjun, then Jaemin wasn’t the only one.

There are many possibilities that Jaemin can’t grasp, thoughts flying past his logic and into panic, and still he’s aware that his imagination won’t be worse than reality. He wants to run all the way to the volleyball court and protect Donghyuck from that confrontation, but he remembers Sunwoo’s words, remembers that Donghyuck needs space to sort out his problems on his own. Or to make mistakes.

So Jaemin waits.

When Donghyuck shows up at home, he’s wretched. But the pheromones that impregnate the air around him are different, resembling the scent he had months ago, and Jaemin feels pure terror in his veins. One mindless push in the wrong direction and he’ll have that old Donghyuck, in pieces, back. Donghyuck doesn’t tiptoe around the topic and tells him that Jeno offered him a new deal, with new rules and an atmosphere charged with mistrust, and Jaemin seethes. He tries to stop him, but the flame in Donghyuck’s eyes exposes his most obscure wishes, and nothing Jaemin says will put that flame out.

Donghyuck doesn’t have this under control, and it doesn’t matter. His alpha will rot in humiliation and false hopes as long as that makes Renjun his, or as long as that allows him to have Renjun for one more night.

And Jaemin _gets_ it.

“Is that the reason you let me in every time?” Jaemin asks Jisung that same night, blinking up at the lights over him. Jisung’s lights are blue and soft, and Jaemin watches the afterimage under his eyelids, trembling with excited fear. He feels Jisung shift over the bed to stare at him but, heart racing and a knot in his throat, Jaemin remains still on his back. “Because it’s either this or nothing?”

Because like Donghyuck and Renjun, Jisung has to accept Jaemin this way or refuse his company. It’s not all or nothing, not for them; it’s a pinch or nothing.

Jisung doesn’t move, doesn’t make a single sound of acknowledgment or offense, but his pheromones brim with curiosity and confusion. That doesn’t happen often. Jaemin rarely manages to provoke those feelings in him, and that leaves him stunned for a while too.

Jisung’s gaze burns on Jaemin’s cheeks, but the pressure doesn’t break him. He’s used to Jisung’s long silences and the sensation of failing him repeatedly. The sensation of going overboard, to places that he wouldn’t dare to touch with other alphas in fear of crossing the line.

“No,” Jisung answers, so low yet so firmly that Jaemin turns to look at him for an ephemeral second. He can’t distinguish Jisung’s emotions from the afterimage of the lights, and they fuse in a multicolor world that is Jaemin’s safe universe. “I let you in because you want to be let in. Because I want to.” The side of Jisung’s mouth slants down, but before Jaemin can justify himself, he’s whispering, “For me, this is already nothing, even though it seems to be everything for you.”

“It is,” Jaemin answers automatically, so involuntarily that it catches himself off guard too.

What he doesn’t tell Jisung is that it’s not enough. Every night he spends on this bed feels too short, every kiss that Jisung doesn’t grant him feels like a punishment, and even though having Jisung’s presence by his side asphyxiates his worries, it’s not what he needs from him.

He needs to give all that back, but it’s wishful thinking. The way Jaemin’s soul shivers at simple gestures like holding hands or looking into Jisung’s eyes is ridiculous. He wishes he could make Jisung feel that complete too, but Jaemin fears it’s only his heart which is compromised – that those heightened feelings can’t be replicated in anyone else, and less in Jisung.

“According to you, it shouldn’t be,” Jisung retorts. It’s a fair response. Jaemin provoked that, since his games are bound to wear off Jisung’s patience sooner or later. “We’re just friends, and you’d do this with any of your friends, so why is it different?”

 _That_ is what it feels like. That’s the big lie spat at himself at last, after he’s convinced everyone that Jisung and he were friends while living a different reality. He wonders if it stung Jisung so badly, too, every time he had to hear it from Jaemin, or every time he had to ignore Jaemin's stubbornness for their own good.

With a grumble, Jaemin complains, “I was the one asking questions.”

That's the most evident sign of defeat he can show, and it makes Jisung smile, that sleazy smile that only peeks at special times. He shakes his head, as though he intuits Jaemin's intentions, his will to escape the conversation.

“Questions that you have to ask yourself, not me,” he says, not taking mercy on him. His left eyebrow shoots up, and Jaemin is already rolling his eyes at him before he can continue. “Don’t you think I deserve a prize for my amazing patience?”

The short laugh that Jaemin lets out is as accidental as sincere, and that vulnerability allows Jisung to gather some bravery and lean his face against his neck. Jaemin tenses up at the proximity, but Jisung's mouth doesn't touch his skin; he doesn't mean to explore Jaemin's unprotected spots, not when he hasn’t been invited to do so. He just wants contact, to connect with him for a moment, no ulterior motives or moves to pull on him.

That's why Jaemin doesn't push him away. Jisung is unique in his own species; so giving, so selfless, that Jaemin never has to worry around him. That's the final proof that he doesn't deserve him, too. His breath pulses over Jaemin's skin and extends to the rest of his body, warm and comforting, and Jaemin can't help but give in to that secret pleasure.

This isn't his alpha. No alpha is his. But at the same time, no alpha can replace Jisung's space in his life. He knows that much.

“Don't get too brave,” Jaemin mutters, but there's no strength in his voice, and deep inside, he wishes he was as brave as Jisung.

This is how it goes: Jaemin’s worry reflects on Jisung.

Jisung is his mirror, even though he doesn’t take his eyes off Jaemin. Even though Jaemin looks between Jeno and Renjun, between Donghyuck and Renjun, and Jisung doesn’t divert his gaze towards them – he’s a faulty mirror that reflects Jaemin’s thoughts but not his actions.

But the night is long, and as Jaemin meets the concern in Jisung’s face, he realizes that this dinner was a bad idea. If Jisung can perceive his anxiety, it’s because he’s emanating a fountain of pheromones. The tension among their friends is tangible, so thick that Jaemin swears he could pick a knife and create a visible fissure in the air in front of them. Chenle, Sunwoo and Yukhei are talkative, but the rest are mostly mute, only pushed into motion by force. Renjun avoids everyone’s gazes, clinging to Jeno for security – something that Jaemin hasn’t witnessed in months, a rarity that he can’t explain after his talk with Renjun.

Donghyuck’s eyes sink in his face with every second that passes by, and Renjun never heeds him any attention. And though Donghyuck took strong suppressants tonight, they’re not an infallible cure. Having his mate ignore him can extinguish the effect of suppressants in the blink of an eye. Jaemin breathes Donghyuck’s pain through his nose, sharp and clear, wondering if he’s the only one who can detect his pheromones, or if everyone else doesn’t care about Donghyuck’s suffering.

Maybe that’s the explanation. They all have given up on him.

Jisung, however, is just as invisible as Donghyuck. He’s exaggeratedly quiet tonight, harmonizing with Jaemin’s gestures, ready to catch him if he falls, which tells him that this isn’t a product of Jaemin’s imagination.

Jaemin has the three most important alphas of his life around this table, and all of them are completely out of his reach. Donghyuck is broken and unfixable, legs trembling under the table as he desperately looks for recognition in Renjun’s face. Jaemin pushed Jisung away out of fear, and he won’t cross the line again. And Sunwoo has moved onto pretending, onto forcing himself to detach from Jaemin – and that’s what he’s doing tonight. Ignoring his pheromones. Letting Jisung be his support. Reminding himself that he’s not supposed to care for Jaemin that way anymore.

Jaemin breathes in, breathes out. Jeno glances at him, eyebrows raised, but Jaemin has no idea what that means. He hasn’t had the chance to speak to him in private, and in general, Jeno doesn’t seem disposed to stay alone with any of them. Lack of trust, Jaemin supposes, trust that he hasn’t regained yet.

His group of friends is fractured, but the wounds are so deep that Jaemin can’t even grant them a piece of stability. Not when he doesn’t have it himself.

Under the table, Jisung hooks a foot around his ankle, discreetly tugging to draw his attention. It scares Jaemin for a second, because the movement is too obvious, but everyone is in their own world, and therefore they don’t notice Jisung’s antics.

When Jaemin lifts his head, he immediately perceives encouragement in Jisung’s pheromones. It’s in his gaze, too, in the form of a bright spark that awakens Jaemin’s sense. That’s all he needs to slant towards Donghyuck, coiling a hand on his arm to disguise his gesture as casual, and whisper, “Hey, you look like you need some fresh air.”

Donghyuck turns to him, befuddled, as though he’s having trouble remembering that Jaemin and his other friends are present. Jaemin doesn’t doubt so. Donghyuck is absorbed in his instinct and the dull effect of suppressants, which isn’t a good combination, and he takes his time to answer.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck admits, voice brittle. Jaemin’s hand lands on his back, though his touch won’t liberate Donghyuck from his pain, not anymore. “Come with me?”

That plea almost breaks Jaemin’s determination, but Jisung’s foot, still latched on his ankle, presses against his calf as a warning. He can’t hear out Donghyuck’s pleas, as much as his omega instinct wants him to comply.

“Go alone,” Jaemin manages to utter, the pain of his own rejection cutting through his throat. Donghyuck doesn’t react, maybe because the suppressants don’t allow him to feel something as insignificant as this, just the stabbing of watching his mate with another man. “I don’t want you to depend on my scent.”

Donghyuck nods and accepts defeat, coming up with an excuse about how he’s going out for a smoke. The plan doesn’t work as planned, and once Donghyuck is gone, Jaemin and the rest merely watch in silence as Renjun follows him. It’s evident that he’s not blind to Donghyuck’s emotions, but it catches Jaemin off guard after a whole dinner without acknowledging him. Renjun’s excuse is even more ridiculous: he takes the jacket Donghyuck left behind and without a word, shakes it as a sign that he’s just taking it to him.

The group dissolves a few seconds after that, and only Jeno remains, his hands around his beer, knuckles white from the tension.

Jaemin doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know why Renjun chased after Donghyuck after spending the whole dinner clutching Jeno. None of them seem to exhibit any logical behavior, but still, it seems that Jeno is aware of any and all the reasons Renjun left. He stares at the bottom of his drink like it’s an endless lake, either absent or ignoring Jaemin, his thoughts elsewhere.

“You two look a bit better,” Jaemin comments off-handedly, hoping that Jeno won’t glare at him. It’s a sad attempt at a conversation, but if Jeno didn’t want to be with them tonight, he wouldn’t be here at all. This is still a step away from Jeno’s dark, lonely corner, and Jaemin isn’t going to miss the opportunity. “Better than the last time I saw you.”

Jeno barely raises his head, but he turns around to spare him a scowl.

“Not really,” he retorts, much to Jaemin’s shock. There’s no malice in his response, and Jaemin would swear he wishes he could do better than this, but he’s too absorbed in his own worries to remember how to treat a friend. Jeno scoffs, low in his throat, and grunts, “Appearances are deceiving.”

They’ve always been, Jaemin reckons, but deception is eroding.

“So many things changed around here,” Jeno says then, taking Jaemin’s silence as a chance. Jaemin doesn’t understand the message until he meets the wonder in his stare. The glint in his eyes isn’t as playful as it should be, but the tilt of his voice betrays his intentions. “Don’t you have anything to tell me?”

Jaemin could recoil. If it wasn’t because his problems are meaningless in comparison to Jeno’s, he would. But tonight he has the guts to lift his chin and claim, “Nope.”

His negative makes Jeno roll his eyes, and Jaemin hides a smile against his palm, pleased. Being hard-headed is an impulse he can’t repress; and for Jeno, that’s familiar, a reminder to relax a bit, a reminder that he’s with a friend, not with the enemy he’s made him out to be.

“Still stubborn,” Jeno protests without strength. He signals at the table, and then at their friends by the bar, just to explain, “This is a mess. Didn’t Sunwoo take it well?”

That question is beyond unexpected. Jaemin bites the interior of his cheek, pensive, unable to figure out how Jeno reached that conclusion. He thought that Sunwoo was doing a good job at pretending, but maybe it was a false impression – maybe Jaemin was too focused on Donghyuck to realize that Sunwoo’s attitude was crystal clear as well.

Sensing a wave of warmth on his cheeks, Jaemin stutters, “How do you-?”

“I just know.” Jeno shakes his head, interrupting the obvious question. “I know what that feels like.”

Jaemin feels his own throat dry up at that confession, well aware of what Jeno is talking about. The similarities exist, but Jaemin hates to think that he might have hurt Jisung and Sunwoo as much as Renjun hurt Jeno and Donghyuck.

His head hangs low, away from Jeno’s scrutiny and all the responses that could trigger a bad memory for him. No excuses, because if Jaemin excuses himself, all the excuses that Renjun gave Jeno will play out in his head. He can’t lie to someone that has been lied to, with the truth, a thousand times.

“I tried to give him closure,” Jaemin manages to utter, though that doesn’t feel quite accurate. Sunwoo found closure himself, pressuring Jaemin to admit that it was over; it wasn’t an initiative born from Jaemin’s will. “I’m not sure it worked, though.”

Jeno leans back on the seat, interrogating Jaemin with his eyes, and clarifies, “It won’t work until he sees you with someone else. It’s- something about alphas. Always refusing to acknowledge that they lost someone, even if they know they did.”

Jaemin’s lips seal with the weight of a hundred stones. His heart beats slowly, pulled into numbness, into realization. Sunwoo isn’t in love with him, but he loves him nonetheless; it’s the same for Jaemin. It isn’t about comfort and familiarity. Sunwoo thought that they had a chance to fall in love at some point, that their feelings could evolve and drag them along, but they never developed in that direction.

Jaemin used to ponder about it too, until Jisung happened.

Before silence can swallow them, Jaemin slides over the seats to close the distance between them. Jeno’s body language isn’t very welcoming, not at first, but it’s difficult for anyone to resist omega’s pheromones. Dropping his head on Jeno’s shoulder, Jaemin hopes this is enough, for all the things that he’ll never be able to say with words, or all the apologies that will sound empty and meaningless. A warm squeeze of his hand under the table is a bigger message than anything that can come out of his mouth.

“Are you going to Chenle’s party after finals?” Jaemin asks him, imprinting his cheek on the scent of Jeno’s jacket.

Jeno startles at the first touch, but then his body deflates in one go, like he couldn’t remember Jaemin or couldn’t remember other people’s touches.

“Don’t want to,” he admits, just as Jaemin expects. His spirit isn’t up for parties either, so he can imagine the effort Jeno will have to make. “But he’d kill me if I didn’t go.”

Humming in agreement, Jaemin slides his fingers against Jeno’s palm, and his friend clasps his thumb to hold onto him. He doesn’t want to let go, so Jaemin doesn’t.

“It’s our last university party,” Jaemin reminds him. The end of something, even though none of them know what, and the start of their doubts – about whether they’ll keep in contact, whether time and space will pull them apart in apathy, to the point they’ll become a simply nice memory from when they were young. “I’d kill you too.”

Jaemin doesn’t want to let go either, ever, and that’s what has turned him into a coward.

The party feels like goodbye.

And it's, after all, a goodbye. Jaemin arrives when the party is in its prime, but there are too many people, too many drunk students, and Donghyuck isn't there yet. Sunwoo promised him that he'd deal with the mess in the kitchen to get him a decent drink, but Jaemin doesn't even feel like drinking tonight.

Worries eat him from inside, taking little bites that soon will have contaminated half of his organs, and he leads himself to the garden for some fresh air. The sky is cloudy, with barely any star in sight, but Jaemin stays there nonetheless to wait for Sunwoo.

He isn't sure if Donghyuck will show up at all, and if he doesn't, Jaemin won't blame him. If Jaemin was in his shoes, he doubts he'd have the heart to endure their last university party. Donghyuck's exhaustion was evident hours ago, when Jaemin saw him leave for his last exam, and this is just another duty for him. He was supposed to drive to the party with Jisung, however, and that's why Jaemin is pretty sure that both of them will appear at some point of the night. Jisung would have texted him otherwise.

Given that there are some couples in the garden, Jaemin doesn't walk further into the green, afraid that he'll bump into unwanted situations. But he remains there, eyes latched onto the sky, the gray clouds moving at the speed of light, until he feels a warm hand around his waist.

He doesn't need to look at him to know that it's Sunwoo. His scent mingles with the mist of the night as he hands Jaemin his drink, and Jaemin sends him a toothy grin as a reward.

“Cheers,” Sunwoo says, but he doesn't clink their drinks together. His gaze follows the path up to the sky, where Jaemin was looking, as if he wants to understand what he's discovered. Then, he whispers, “You have graduated, baby.”

It seems too real to not laugh, so Jaemin leans all his weight against Sunwoo's side and cackles in amusement. Sunwoo doesn't laugh with him, but he makes a purring, appreciative sound in the back of his throat.

“So have you,” Jaemin points out.

Sunwoo turns to stare into his eyes, slowly, as if to drink from his words. If Jaemin didn't know better, he'd believe he's already drunk, but he isn't. Maybe he's a bit sad, like Jaemin himself, maybe he fears this is where and when it will end. That's where his anxiety comes from as well: he needs to look into Jisung's eyes for reassurance, to convince himself that Jisung won't forget about him once he's out of his daily life, out of university, out of their pull and push game.

“Stay with me?” Sunwoo asks him, his black pupils tugging Jaemin back to reality. He lifts his free hand, his pinky springing up, and adds, “Forever?”

Jaemin's whole universe melts, but it's in that same moment, when he interlaces their pinkies together, that he understands why he loves Sunwoo the way he does. There's loyalty where there should be passion, fondness where adoration should bloom, and that won't ever change. Sunwoo is his soulmate, but it will never be romantic for them.

“Just if you behave,” Jaemin smartly retorts, though his lips twitch upwards.

Sunwoo grants him a dirty look and grumbles, “I can't promise that.”

Silence encircles them afterwards, a comfortable space for both of them, and Jaemin shuffles closer to Sunwoo for warmth. Sunwoo welcomes him without questioning his intentions, which he appreciates.

“Where is everyone?” Jaemin complains. “This party is weird like this.”

It's weird without their friends around, without all of them together and having fun, but there's no need for him to rant. Sunwoo is as aware as Jaemin, and that could be one of the reasons he's so stubborn about pampering their friendship - because everyone else could disintegrate over time, but they have to stick together.

“Chenle is drooling over some tall boy.” Sunwoo shoots him a questioning glance, as though Jaemin could have an idea of who he's talking about. Neither of them does, because Chenle's crushes are short-lived and it's hard to catch up, so it could be anyone. “And I saw Jeno and Renjun together, but they didn't look very approachable.”

Jaemin dodges the insinuation, since they have already talked about this in private. “Shall we go inside? I want to ruin Chenle's crush. Tonight is for us, not for his random dudes.”

Even though Sunwoo scolds him for being mean, he still accepts and follows him inside. Jaemin swears that in the span of a few minutes, the amount of people at the party has multiplied, and they can't find Chenle where he was.

Sunwoo holds his hand and guides him to the kitchen again, but on the way Jaemin spots Renjun and Jeno together, as Sunwoo told him, except they're walking up the stairs and towards the bedrooms. It feels like a rock sinking in his stomach, because he knows that if Donghyuck is already here, if he witnessed them heading to the second floor, he'll have to pick up the broken pieces later tonight.

“Shit, he left,” Sunwoo says once they invade the kitchen. Chenle is nowhere to be seen, which isn't a surprise, and in his place there's a bunch of girls dangerously mixing drinks. Sunwoo studies them carefully before asking, “Want another drink?”

Jaemin responds with a curt nod, following Sunwoo around the kitchen. He hears the girls mutter something about them being a cute couple, probably because they can smell their scents on each other, but Jaemin doesn't bother to correct them. Instead he hugs Sunwoo from behind as he prepares the new drinks, giving himself a moment to rest. His eyelids drop by themselves, but he doesn't mind that this is out of place at a party; he finds temporary peace, squashed against Sunwoo's nape and the world spinning non-stop around them.

He's so far away that, when Jisung's scent first slips into his nose, he's certain that it's his imagination. Or maybe he has remnants of him on his skin, on his clothes, and a bad movement has awakened them. He doesn't startle until Sunwoo tenses up, the muscles of his back hard against Jaemin's abdomen, his pheromones solid with discomfort.

Jisung's gaze is the first thing Jaemin registers, the black depth of his eyes fixed on him with a determination that electrifies him from head to toe. Jaemin detaches from Sunwoo at the speed of light, even though he's not doing anything wrong, even though Jisung wouldn't make a scene just because he's touching Sunwoo.

Tonight, that conviction feels weaker, invisible. Jisung stands in front of him like an earthquake about to unleash, unstable and terrible, and Jaemin watches him in bewilderment.

“Can we talk?” Jisung tells him, shouting over the music and the noise of the kitchen. His voice remains low, however, and Jaemin doesn't know how he managed to hear him. After glancing at Sunwoo, he clarifies, “Alone.”

That rubs Jaemin the wrong way.

“Hi to you too, Jisung,” he answers, slightly annoyed. He hasn't met up with Jisung in days, since they were busy studying and running from place to place; Jaemin was looking forward to feel, to sense and to breathe Jisung's essence, but that enthusiasm is misplaced in Jisung. “Does Sunwoo bother you?”

The shameless provocation shouldn’t affect Jisung, not after two whole years of dealing with Jaemin’s antics. Jaemin has seen him brush off even the most childish retorts, thus he doesn’t expect Jisung to bite the bait, determination radiating from his gaze.

“Yes, actually,” Jisung admits, nonchalant, even though his attention doesn’t drift off from Jaemin. Sunwoo scoffs at his sincerity, entertained by the situation, and Jaemin has to elbow him in the ribs so that he shuts up. Jisung barely spares him a glance. “It’s either alone or nothing.”

Jaemin would love to resist, just to rebel, but underneath Jisung’s prepared façade, anxiety flies with its little wings. No one but Jaemin can perceive that.

They’ve spent too many nights together, too many nights when Jisung slept and Jaemin stayed awake, appreciating the little differences in Jisung’s scent once his guard is down. That’s how he caught the small shifts in Jisung’s pheromones, how he learned to tell apart his nervousness from his basal pheromones.

And tonight, Jisung is nervous. Jittery. It would be cruel to prolong that torture, or to make him confront Sunwoo first.

As soon as Jaemin nods, Jisung spins on his heels, the only sign that he wants Jaemin to chase after him. Sunwoo dedicates him a resigned look before pushing him his way, aware that Jaemin will immediately sulk just because Jisung didn’t even take his hand first.

Jaemin tries to keep his spirit up, but that’s way harder than frenetically keeping up with Jisung’s pace. Among the multitude, Jaemin realizes that Jisung is taking him back to the garden; even though he’s been there with Sunwoo, he knows that Jisung has chosen the garden for privacy.

It’s difficult not to assume that Jisung is about to pull him into a dark corner for kisses, but perhaps that’s just what Jaemin yearns deep inside. He looks too nervous for that and, in consequence, adrenaline begins to slither into Jaemin’s system as well.

Jisung is always contagious. His laughter, his fear, his anxiety; the vibrations on his skin as he holds Jaemin’s hand, at last, and makes him sit on the steps. Perhaps it’s a coincidence, but the garden is empty, the noise coming from the boisterous party cushioned by the doors. Jaemin feels like they're in their own bubble once again, even though Jisung squeezes his hand with impatience and clumsiness, and Jaemin isn't allowed to treat him like when they're alone.

“Is it too cold?” Jisung mutters, rubbing his fingertips over the back of Jaemin's hand.

He's tempted to say just so that Jisung keeps caressing him, but he swallows the whim and admits, “No, it’s fine.” And then, facing Jisung, he asks, “What’s going on?”

Contrary to Jaemin's expectations, Jisung doesn't vacillate. “I wanted to talk.”

Which is obvious by now, but it wasn't before. Jisung could have made up any excuse to pull Jaemin away from Sunwoo, except because he's not that sort of person, and thus Jaemin knew there had to be a deeper reason.

“I gathered that much, Jisung,” Jaemin teases him, slanting forward to peek at him from underneath. The look Jisung returns freezes all of Jaemin's thoughts, because he doesn't laugh at his joke, because he stares at Jaemin like he doesn't understand his behavior. “About what?”

Jisung inhales, bites his lower lip as if to regain some logic, and only then he speaks. “You’re leaving.” And even though it sounds like a question, it isn't. It's factual. Jaemin is leaving, leaving him in consequence, and Jisung isn't a fool. “You’re moving out, right? We won’t see each other every day, you’ll be busy-”

Jaemin hasn't had time to put this in perspective. He was worried about losing touch with Jeno, Renjun, and even Sunwoo and Donghyuck, but his brain didn't allow him to navigate through what could happen to Jisung and him. To them. Jisung still has two years left to graduate, and Jaemin will have to keep moving and growing. He wants his life to be static: the same city, the same friends, the same plans.

But he can't promise that to himself or to Jisung, and they're aware of that.

“Jisung, we can still-” Jaemin swallows, his heart, his desperation, thick and hard, and continues, “see each other, if you want to. That doesn’t have to change.”

When Jisung shakes his head, Jaemin is afraid that this is a final rejection; that Jisung brought him here to tell him that it's over, that they had two whole years to build a relationship and they failed. For Jaemin, that's how the story ends: he's been too much of a coward and too complacent with himself, and now he can't turn back in time and give Jisung a chance since the beginning.

But Jisung isn't rejecting him.

“Life doesn’t work like that,” he replies in resignation. His dark eyes roam over Jaemin's face, searching for approval, or merely communicating that he's not starting a fight. “That’s what everyone says in elementary school, in high school, then in university, but then no one acts on it, you know?”

It hurts to know that Jaemin isn't the only one that has pondered about them parting ways. It hurts that these thoughts are specifically in Jisung's head, and that they're aimed at him - he's the cause of so many problems, and the solution to none.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Jisung whispers, his words distorted by the music from inside. Jaemin's omega, however, catches them like water in the middle of a desert. “I don’t want you to go, knowing that we didn’t even try to be together.”

The knot inside Jaemin's chest inflates with bitterness. Jisung is right: they didn't even try. They settled for a few kisses and the false pretense of a relationship while everyone watched them with suspicion. That alone made Jaemin happy and miserable at once.

“I don't understand you,” Jaemin admits, more for himself than for Jisung. He observes his own breath materialize in the cold, a white cloud of mist between them. It blurs Jisung's expression in front of him, and considering what he's about to spill, Jaemin is grateful he doesn't have to witness this. “I don't get why you think this will work out. You let me be with Sunwoo for as long as I wanted, and if I just say no and go back to him, right now, you'll accept it and nothing will happen between us. Any other alpha would be jealous, or hurt, or-”

The cascade of pheromones interrupts him way before Jisung's words can do it. But Jaemin is too absorbed in his own pain to recognize all the details in Jisung's scent, apart from frustration and confusion, pain and incredulity.

”So what if I’m not a normal alpha?” Jisung sputters, straightening up. That's an unusual gesture of power in him, but Jaemin doesn't bother to point it out; Jisung releases his hand in that exact moment, and that's too much of a distraction for Jaemin to counterattack. He needs to touch Jisung to stay sane, to not crumble down upon a goodbye. “You’re too comfortable in your role, Jaemin. You’re too comfortable being the person, the omega people expect you to be. You’re used to taking steps only when someone is pushing you.”

It's not an accusation, just the plain truth, but from Jisung's mouth, it makes Jaemin feel like he hasn't done anything right in his entire life. Jaemin knows that other omegas don't even know how to set limits for other ranks, while that ability just came with his personality; that same logic can't be applied to other issues.

Jaemin lacks initiative, despite how often Jisung has made him move based on instinct and passion.

“And I don’t push,” Jisung continues, jaw hardening with each word. Jaemin feels the warmth of his own shame through his body, but he wants to hear every little thing that Jisung has to tell him; it's been years of silence and unspoken secrets, so Jisung's honesty is a gift that he can't miss. So are the determination in his gaze and the strong pheromones in the air, clasping around Jaemin to send the right message. “I let you have your own space, your own time to make decisions, and because suddenly you’re free, the result is that you do nothing.” Jisung sighs, and softer, he stares at Jaemin with an emotion akin to surrender, “That’s not going to change. If you need an alpha that breaks boundaries, then it’s not going to be me. It’s not going to be us.”

Speechless, Jaemin is incapable of assimilating Jisung’s words at first. Jisung has never managed to translate his thoughts to reality before, and Jaemin has tried, too, but his suppositions were far from the truth. Jisung didn’t stand by his side because it was all he could get from Jaemin, but because he had respected Jaemin’s decisions, or the lack thereof.

Upon his silence, Jisung drifts his attention away to the darkness of the garden. And Jaemin is scared then, because he knows that if he doesn’t fight tonight, it will be over for real. This isn’t just another night together that can be mended tomorrow.

They’ve run out of opportunities.

“Look at me,” Jaemin pleads, stroking under Jisung’s chin. His skin is burning, intense pheromones that stick to Jaemin’s fingertips right away, but Jisung obeys him nonetheless. And there’s hope in the way he returns Jaemin’s stare, a plea as huge as Jaemin’s words. “Is this a confession? Or a reprimand?”

His lips part with wonder, with hesitation, and out of the blue Jaemin wishes to seal his confusion with a kiss. With a hundred of them, if Jisung lets him. They’re forced to think about tomorrow, but Jaemin yearns for the opposite: for a life in which he can have Jisung without worries or unsolved questions. He wants to live the present, every second of it, with Jisung.

Tone rough with nervousness, Jisung admits, “Both.”

Someone like Jisung must have never confessed before, and it’s such a clumsy, messy confession that Jaemin can’t help but melt. He doesn’t know how to express his feelings either; they’re so overwhelming, so unexplainable, that he wouldn’t be able to tell Jisung why he loves him, why it’s different with him, and why it’s so scary for Jaemin to have fallen in his claws.

Jaemin drops his hand, caressing down Jisung’s chest, feeling his arrhythmic breathing. That’s how he feels, too: breathless, unbalanced, like the world is tilting under them.

The trust in Jisung’s gaze keeps him steady, a cord around his waist in case he intends to jump into the nothingness. So Jaemin jumps, with his eyes closed and a hand fisting the front of Jisung’s jacket, and prays for the best.

“Say you love me,” Jaemin hears himself say.

That’s the sweetest charm, so sweet that Jaemin can’t believe himself. Jisung’s body responds to his request in a matter of milliseconds. His scent softens, plummets from anxiety to surprise and then rises to ecstasy, becoming so intoxicating that Jaemin can’t breathe for a few seconds.

Jisung cups his cheek, palm fitting against his jaw, and lets their foreheads meet in the middle. Touching Jisung is electrifying, but Jaemin keeps his eyes closed to feel him better. From this distance, so close that he could lift his chin and kiss him, he can already taste the pheromones of Jisung’s mouth.

It’s been so long since the last time he kissed Jisung.

“ _You_ say you love me,” Jisung retorts, putting up a fight. The smile that blooms on Jaemin’s lips is unstoppable, the traces of playfulness interlacing with his impatience. Jisung knows that he can win tonight, and that’s the game he’s just started. “You taught me something very valuable, you know?”

Jaemin has no idea what Jisung is talking about. The hand on his jaw is too distracting, too enchanting, and his pheromones dance over his lips, tempting and merciless.

“Yeah?” Jaemin manages to breathe out, though his voice is barely a mutter. “What was it?”

Even with his eyes closed, he can sense how Jisung breaks into a smile.

“I was taught that I shouldn't indulge an omega,” he says. His thumb draws an arch over Jaemin’s cheek, tilting his head the right amount to leave Jaemin more vulnerable. Jaemin sighs directly into his mouth, without shame, and Jisung inexorably shivers, “just because I find him cute.”

It’s a lesson that Jisung never incorporated, but that now is hurled at Jaemin as payback. Though Jisung might not have a lot of tricks and experience, the few weapons he owns are mortal against Jaemin. That’s the last straw for Jaemin to surrender, because he has many reasons to make Jisung indulge him, all of them illogical and whimsical, and thus he has none.

“Indulge me,” Jaemin tells him, feeling feverish. The contrast between Jisung’s body and the temperature of the garden makes him tremble with anticipation, and he clenches and unclenches his fist around Jisung’s clothes, once, twice, five times. “Please.”

Jisung’s smile evaporates, and before Jaemin can take a second chance, he’s drawing back. Jaemin nearly tugs him back, but Jisung doesn’t have any intention of breaking contact: he’s just trying to look into Jaemin’s eyes, which is equally gratifying and scary. Jaemin can’t hide his emotions this way, and anyhow, he doesn’t want to hide anymore.

“If I do,” Jisung begins, licking his lips. He unconsciously glances at Jaemin’s mouth, but his focus returns to his pupils with even more determination, “I’m not letting you go, and you’re not allowed to let me go.”

That promise is more than Jaemin has ever expected, but the moment he understands Jisung’s effort, it's a brittle ultimatum that gives him the energy he needs. Energy to fuel the first and last step, and all the future steps that he hasn't had to take yet.

He doesn’t need Jisung to say it first.

“I love you,” Jaemin confesses, as though neither of them knew, as though it’s been a secret for years and he wasn’t supposed to share it. It feels right, however, like those three words put every piece of his world in the right place. "And if you forgive me for being a fool, I'll let you love me too."

His voice comes out shaky and weak, but for Jisung, it seems to be overpowering. It's hard to feel misplaced with Jisung's gaze on him, brimming with understanding at last - with an adoration that Jaemin feels he doesn't deserve, but that he does deserve.

"I don't have to forgive you." Jisung leans forward, slightly bumping Jaemin's nose with his, and promises, "I love you too, Jaemin. Whether you let me or not."

A smile tugs Jaemin's lips, but the gravity of Jisung's mouth is even stronger than happiness. He can't tell who kisses first, if someone is first at all or if they meet in the middle in a soft kiss.

From beginning to end, Jisung's kisses feel like home. They’ve always felt that way. It's just an extension of all the nights and days Jisung has been with him, a reminder of the warmth of his kisses and the comfort of being loved exactly like Jaemin loves, too.

After all, Jaemin has never truly let Jisung go, and he has a hunch that’s how it will always be.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/renjucas)   
>  [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/berryboys)   
> 


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